Like a spinning top, I move fast but I’m still.
When I stop, I fall and I hit the ground,
face down. I bleed out from the mouth,
but no one can hear me cry in my lonely room.
Blood pours from me like a spout
or a faucet. I rub at it with my sleeve and it smears
across my tattooed heart, just below the wrist. I kiss
the carpet to stop the flow and I stain the floor.