Digitized from a ceramic sculpture
Down to the basement where the dead dreams lie.
To see culture stretched over living human skin,
I’m drawn to boundaries, lungs, where the gases exchange.
The vapour is explosive, sweet and foul,
I can’t help but inhale the fumes.
It’s a rush and my blood boils with pleasure,
Should I have shame… I feel so good.
Heart pumps chemicals round, faster and faster,
While exhaling exhaust into a clear blue sky.
The skin is thin, the blood is thick.