deepundergroundpoetry.com

No Service

He walks and wheels
his silver and blue
pedal bike down
the long highway
roads,
burning black asphalt,
beaten around rocks,
scared from tiny pebbles,
yellow and faded white lines
painted parallel
to one another,
he turns
right into the trails,
they intersect for hours,
fallen trees, debris,
dark shades, red eyes,
skeleton with a blue ball cap
styled helmet,
stainless steel watch, red face,
scratched all over,
black shorts and sneakers,
neon green laces,
muddy,
tattooed skin,
bloody,
no shirt,
no service.
Written by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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