A Spinning Nowhere

I've bled into toilet
bled onto page
wiped stench of puss
and broken zit on
monitor screen

a spinning nowhere;

footprints from metro
line--follow prey

aged accordingly

locked away in
cool, damp cellars,

fungus and green
smells--wretch
and cough

wheeze;

pack your lunch
trudge up cliffside
peer off the edge
focus on moon
gravid with orange
hue and night

sinking low--

call out and echo

no ears
within a
thousand
miles
will
hear.