Sniffing Tyres

I love sniffing tyres. I can only imagine the inside of a tyre to be full of never ending sparks; fractals of multicolored energy never fully specifying their existence on a 3d surface. They pulsate and retract in front of my sensual deep sea camera that is delving into the unpercievable inside of the dense liquid. The dense rubber holds unintelligible possibilities into the meaning of our sentient existence, as the endless possibilities of the patterns could, given time, reveal the answer to any question. When placing my nostrils against the dusty black skin of the wheel forever chained to the axle of the family car I inhale. Imagining the thousands of chunky dust particles going up my nose into the nasal chamber below my eye, translating the information that is only meant to be known by the enlightened ones.