Poet's Corner - On Board - Poem
Chris PearceAs I attack this slab of concrete with my weapon of choice my sanity level increases somehow skating is my voice smothering the surface with every little grind with every flake of metal I leave something behind I rub the curb down with my illegal wax worry cops will see me so it's hard to relax new spots keep appearing that are fun to go find at another of my old spots a "NO SKATEBOARDING" sign
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