(no subject)

[asongcalledhope]

all black and waxy and covered in pinkish cherry blossom pedals, mid-april gloom, mostly raining a lot, im learning to control massive torque on ultra wet roads with no gimmicks, no traction control, only creature comfort is the newfound source of adrenaline, smell of raw exhaust fumes, as i grip the wheel with a broken finger, unintentionally spinning tires, gritty and mean, i feel it. this is rebellion, the desire within my bones to be rattled. to never feel at ease.

if you can sit still and feel comfortable in this world, you aint like me