Bicyclotropic
Stirred up mocus adrenaline bubble,
Piling sandbags against this rising tide.
Give me focus, else mouth will find trouble,
Prozac, Ritalin, or yet, a hard ride?
The shrinks call it demon anxiety,
But this mind sees another assignment.
This sacred outpouring of energy,
Pedal smashing Chakra realignment.
Jittery feet to pedals: Clip, clip, roll.
More push/strain/burn, faster the scenery.
Wind howl numbs the ears, wolf howl wakes the soul,
Knots within melt, exultant liberty.
Burst dam, torrid current has flowed away.
Glowing soul raiment for another day.
© February 23, 2016
Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016
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