omnidirectional,
through the smell of plastic
and sweat
and a billion whispers.
See cardboard rows
flashing -
blind paparazzi;
electricity purrs,
lightbulbs mimic stars,
behind a corner,
a butterfly flaps its wings
in a glass box
and the line that divides
draws a blood equator.
The outside
isn't that pretty
seen through a hole in concrete,
through a pink eye
and an evil word,
- like a periscope
from a sane bubble,
refusing to collapse
back to thought.
Shaking paralyzed,
detuned,
almost bloodless
and up with the blues;
the arms that hold heaven
will reach tomorrow,
but tonight,
nowhere isn't far enough.
