tire marks left behind on the tracks of thoughts in my head from racing cars donuts roundabout thoughts. putrid acid of burnt rubber stings the eyes and the throat raw from clear, untainted tears. but smoke from sudden friction sudden spark lingers. ascending into nothingness the relief of peace. it is raining outside. and it trickles into my bloodstream. coming inside. the tiny white powdery donuts are gently disintegrating into me small pelting on the wound on the road though black tracks remain as evidence of distress the sting is gone. so is the heat. it’s cold now. and it’s difficult to get rid of the rubber blemish. and roads are hard to keep clean when reckless drivers exist.