Hotel

A hotel for hire and free of charge
was my calling in life. The worms would forage,
smash me from within through the allotments of sage
as they robbed my identity – forced a change
that left me stained. Crevasses littered my skin
severing the bonds of me and my kin.

A lobby for waiting and no room to hold
a moment of peace. I never would sell
the papers to tell
of the collapse of society
in this hotspot of notoriety.

Enigmatic corridors were the thread
of excitement for the guests who desired
a chilling bed more than getting pissed
out of their pants for the same rush
of ecstasy that each would bring.

The couples that dance
through the doors are unprepared
for the woeful shredding of matrimony
when the cameras turn on
and the lights shut off.

Adam Foley

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