319 – Lane split

A tiny strip
Of solid ground
Between sanity
And madness.

The sharp edge
Of a bloody knife
Cleanly cutting flesh
From skin.

The hanging instant
Of uncertainty
Between one breath
And the next.

A split-second
Of doubt
Before dashing
Thru a tight space.

The swift rush
Of brushing death
Close enough
To feel her touch.

A mad mix
Of fear and laughter,
Bursting thru
The other side.

Some call it wild.

Some call it life.