biking

I biked a little. Biked miles. I need some coherence in my thought process to think. My girlfriend is in my head. I have so much wisdom but no use for it. I wanted more.

My thighs pumped at thirty-five miles per hour. Wind glanced my side. I had time. Not much.

I didn’t know what, but it was easy to get lost.

— -

Trees, wind, bikers passed by. I didn’t worry about the bikers. I’d beat them.

I discarded a picture from my wallet of my girlfriend because I didn’t want to remember. I wanted the scars from the sun.

My girlfriend at home waiting for me to make love to her.

— -

‘Be made love to,’ because “F’uck,” just was not cutting it. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to be serious.

— -

I’m trying to tell the truth because the truth is important. It’s not about who tells the truth. If you really want to get somewhere, you really have to explore. I was dealing. With memory and memory poisoning my system, ‘What am I doing.’

— -

I can’t think such thoughts. This is a journey. I’ve done this a hundred times.

My eyes grew wide. It was just a question. I had no friends.

I had enemies. And, people who conquered.

“Wipe the blood off your chin.” My mom said, as I ate a steak.

— -

“Wipe the blood off your chin.”

Good. That’s why I grew my hair out. My fangs out. My fangs were long. Just kidding.

— -

But, my nails were long, and usually, I cut them because I was playing guitar. My shower. My guitar was in the corner. My eyes were bloodshot.

— -

I have a complicated history with the guitar, but I don’t want to get into that right now.

I kept it kosher. My girlfriend was Muslim. I think they eat kosher in Muslim countries. Or, was that Jewish people? My job was going down the drain. I didn’t care. I was writing and biking.

I was losing speed. And, I had to pull to the side. You can’t think in the end. Die. In death, there’s no thinking. It’s just a face you make in the mirror before leaving. Listen, I want to tell you all the story, but you’re not listening. If you listen, you’ll hear. I won’t tell you. The sun set. The birds.

Breeze cascaded over my body. I sighed. Wind. Fair conditions. I was happy, but happiness has nothing to do with it. Winning was everything.

I didn’t grow up. I competed, but didn’t want to bike.

— -

Thighs screamed.

‘What was I doing?’ My mind screamed at me. I couldn’t think. I wasn’t straight.

‘What do I have to do get straight?’ I thought. My cleverness was getting me nowhere. My worries got me nowhere.

Involved. That’s all I had to be.

— -

The guitar was sitting in the corner of my house, and I was thinking of it. I couldn’t play right now. I couldn’t snuggle right now. I couldn’t feed my girlfriend.

— -

I was in charge. The bike sped down the concrete. And, asphalt rose from the ground. People didn’t listen to me anymore.

The ground told me the concrete was cracking, and I had to bike around. My helmet jangled. I put the buckle. Never an actor.

— -

I was a rider. I could ride with the best. I didn’t care about them. I was conquering. I was conquering myself. My girlfriend got homework to do. The sun set, and I could tell the race finished.

I needed a race. I needed to win. I didn’t win, and I wasn’t going to kill myself, or anything, but it was an option. My shoulders hunched and bent over. The steering wheel of the bike hung.

—

My arms were bending.

My shoulders hunched over.