The stillness alone is intoxicating.
The muffled thud of rubber against pavement
chants in honor of
your unfaltering synchronicity.
Sight melts into sound melts into distance.
You feel the heat against your skin
like melting wax, waiting
to be drawn-out by the passage of time.
Slowly, thoughts materialize just out of
reach.
No longer human, but machine
Suddenly, forward propulsion
is all you know. Past and future
cease to exist.
Like a pliable fabric, you have
been woven into the present.
And it is intoxicating.
And it is everything and nothing at once.
And you ask me why I do it.