davidchesworth
Dragged through the earth's detritus.
Constant movement causes abrasive textures.
Oxides stain my skin. I become an aerial. And where has the ambience gone? There is no distance.
I am a worm, wary of insects, birds, vocal bleeds, heavy feet, leaky transmissions.
This is technology’s gaze. I blindly touch it until the tape runs out.