vertigo hallway
I make my
way down
tilt-a-whirl dark
hallways
eyes of persons
in paintings
following
my trek
through the dark.

and I hear it--
I've gone
in search
of its source
as it
sounds in the blackness of
dead time
and I see
no mouth making
any noise

as I spiral through ennui
I reach a threshold
disoriented & lost, now,
I die with the dark
and yet,
I still hear them
through the snaps
and crackles
and drafts
of a quiet nightly home
clearer than a bell,
I hear
whispers
from the dark

I'm telling you -
almost like a
shadow
leaning up-close
to my ear
faintly drawling,
in some unutterable
alien muffled tongue

maddened by noise
I continue
Determined to
source this phenomena
I always end in the same
room
and as a
metal gate
rolls shut behind
I finally realize.