May 31
I'm on my hands and knees, flared ribs heaving, shaking, and my throat is raw from gutteral screams produced from somewhere deep within my soul I can't touch directly
She's on her back, suspended by shining black curves a few metres down the road, broken, in a puddle of her own fluids. I can still hear her toxic purr behind the ringing in my ears
Then I collapse and let my helmet hit the tarmac, and I'm pulled out of my short-lived state of exaltation by few prying eyes, and a stupid woman asking if I need an ambulance...
