Hotel Room

 

Hotel Room

Vegas heats up in these idle lungs

Summer weekends begin their urge

like a roar of blood in the ears, no anticipation dwells so

not even those addictions we've reasoned to be just

or justified as youthful relief...

 

I sit as still as the neon blinking through drab curtains

can allow / without obsessing into a tick / a nervous twitch

 

The lumps on this bed, like ghosts

from forgotten trysts, seem to jab / to escape /

even when sleep attempts to drain itself from the body

due to the lack of it.

 

It smells vaguely familiar of 2000 flushes

and ashtrays with liquor stains

hurled from mouths overfed with parties and past

indiscretions / guilt / scattered

on the carpet, and in the corner

reminds me of our foolish frivolity / heavy with loss

hope, laughter / shapes and shadows

in that corner where you vomitted

with tears and self realizations of mistakes

with a chuckle at its absurd truths,

followed by a blank stare...

 

Your face in its tracks of saline depth

like a painting of twilight rites of passage

which we had to burden in bewitching hours / early

before the sun / sobbering

those times we diluted and ache for still

 

As I recollect in the hush of a motel 6

drunked neighbors with their sounds of sex / taboo /

echoes our lost twenties

learning to live and define emotions - like secret messages

from devils and Jesus

washing over us / growing up,

losing days to nights / so doubtful and wretchedly alive

in the uncertainty of oblivion

of searching for its celebration.../ losing ourselves...

 

I sit in this hotel room

wretchedly alive / in and out of neon lights

trying to find an emotion

staring at the corner / shadows of you / vomitting

your message that I only now begin to realize

from tears to echoes

laughter still to be / unheard

oblivion in memory's sorrow / I sit / unfeeling

before dawn, hours hollow...

o

Still wretchedly alive ...