Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 9
Wined, dined, not a lady in sight.
Stomach lump. Body drunk.
Time a line of pudding.
Start your engines. Wave the flag.
This cart will race for miles.
No horizon. No turn off.
Miles and miles and miles.
Maniacal Escape
Written by
Maniacal Escape  30/M/lancashire
(30/M/lancashire)   
48
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems