An Addiction

The rush of air moving ever-so-quickly across my face,
The radiant warmth that comes from directly underneath,
The screaming wail; Half wind / Half machine,
The feeling of being in complete unison with another object,
The absolute freedom, the epitome of living in the moment.

The slightest twist of my wrist
Sending me:
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Hurtling.
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Breathlessly.
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Forward.
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I NEED TO RIDE MY MOTORCYCLE