Dispose

Tall walls and impossible ceilings
A factory made of steel
Told you my dad on a boat didn't tell you what kind of weapon
Nor the age of the children
I think it was may
The sea was ice cold

Meanwhile in the factory
Big bad woolf and Father judgement
Smoking pot
A game of dice and
Fate in a jar

Dampness:
The lips of a girl
Another girl
The pornographic pleasure of tips
Here fingers running down hundreds of miles of flesh

Marcel Broodthaers