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Laura Cummings

(Friday 16th October 1987 / Alexander Hospital, Redditch.)

Behind The Steering Wheel.

Travelling too fast, feeling so free,
needing to go faster, and making love to the danger.
Tasting the fear in your heart as
blood pumps through your veins, only
breathing in adrenalin. Everything
passes past in a blur, not seeing
anything, not feeling
anything except the need to be free.
Everything is forgotten in
the race
to reach the end of the line,
daring fate to take
your life
now that you’ve made it so easy.
Nothings happening, you’re
numb from the feeling of being all
alone in a world where
you’re over-crowded.
The wind cuts your face and hands as
you suddenly have to pull on the breaks.
You’re going to fast!
It’s too late to stop!
Life flashes before you’re eyes as
you recall the cocky fealing of thinking
you know everything.
You know nothing.
You haven’t lived.
You know with absolute certainty that
you’re going to die.
Life is a fast moving vehicle and
you’re behind the steering wheel.
Drive safely.

Submitted: Friday, November 25, 2005
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Comments about this poem (Behind The Steering Wheel. by Laura Cummings )

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  • Nat Z. Punx (8/23/2006 6:38:00 PM)

    i liked this one alot too. i partial to motive poerty, the final act of my guardian angel is along these lines (Report) Reply

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