A night in the snow

Can you feel it, the rumble, the shake of speed as travel toward that rush that keeps you sane. Those moments that ensure your sense of fragility in this world, your confirmation that the decision to remain is yours for this day. The cold soaks into your bones and the wind chaps your face. Trying to see through the snow deadens your senses to the cold, and your heart is all that feels this night as you ride away your frustration. Time, time and a sense of urgency you can't pinpoint, can't decide why you feel so helpless, yet so restless, and do all men feel this at times? I know it is not the average male frustration, for I am not the average male. Yet I feel the crosswind throwing me around my lane and it brings me back to reality. Must I go this fast, Will it ever last? If only I could talk to her while she sleeps, then she would understand, I could open my soul to her and feel her tension slip into me. The passion I feel most, The passion I yearn to share is the word in my heart, my soul. I feel the words, yet I must downplay my words, as they scare most who listen. When they hear, then they are at once enthralled, enticed and they get an expression that is so obvious, it is a mix of rapture and torture, it is the same look they give a freshly dead body at a car accident. I wonder is this why death follows me? Is this why I see it so often, so I write death every day as i write these feeble words on this mushed up and debarked tree. How can the flow of ink on paper frighten so many people. I wish i could see how they feel, Feel what is real. Will it ever be, or can I learn to be me, and can she that the me that I am is not a frightening sight? Must every woman I meet feel like I am trying to smother them or frighten them away. So this is why I ride this night, through the ice and the fog, risking nothing, yet risking it all to feel. To feel What? Is it fear I seek, or do I search for a grander scheme?