hotel deaths are so overdramatic
liza
liza
Jun 2, 2014

hotel deaths are so overdramatic
they're just random people who checked in for a day's rest that just happened to last forever

and hotel suicides
home's not a five star

but all of the murders
because they were still found
after they shaved half their heads
and dyed what's left red
and changed their names
and wore green contacts
and hurried the fuck up to hide

hotels are petri dishes for killing bacteria.

inspired by a newspaper article or two
#death   #hotel  
ZinaLisha
ZinaLisha
Nov 5, 2014

Revolving doors
drugs and drank
the combination of it all began to stank.

Dirty beds
body heat and ashe covered sheets
greasy take out, we usally eat.

Strange rooms
bic lighters, smoke, and incense
last check in with my innocence.

#hotel  
AB
AB
May 10, 2015

"Dammit, I am certain I have a reservation here"
"Sir, I think maybe you have a stay some where near?"
After this latest crazy guest, I'm gonna need a beer.
Check everybody in.
Throw more towels in the bin.
Out through the door, let out a cheer.

Limerick challenge
limping from hotel to hotel
Anna Mosca
Anna Mosca
Apr 4, 2015

*

should have taken one

picture as i walked in

bed spread tight

all folded and straight



me dog tired

before a long hot shower

cramped in one tomorrow



with everything i own

spreaded wastly around

a colorful explosion



I will walk around

picking up the pieces

stepping on geography



not singing over maps

using a finger

to caress a route and  



the thought of you

limping from hotel to hotel

and a sleeping bag



go away

artists’ lives are messy

it’s a known fact



the walls are disheveled

would I have some glue

to nail you there and there



I will hop around happily

tattooing words about us

and hiding some

under letters

From The London Hours Collection

http://annamosca.com/2012/11/10/the-london-hours-2012-54/
#love   #life   #tattoo   #tired   #hotel   #artist   #maps   #geography  
you're hotel despondent,
Madison Jade Gardner

To compare you to a summers eve
wouldn't serve the justice,
but when your heart is open
I know your years are numbered.

One after another
they parade in your life
pillaging, stealing, burning
your eternal happiness

I'm worshiping at your alter
and keeping tabs
on your little sadnesses
but you're on your knees beside her.

I only want to see you happy
oh, how comical.
You didn't try
and you don't care.

I see pity in your eyes,
and rage rises,
because I'm not one to be pitied
or made a fool of.

And yet you make me one,
every time.
A little girl, it seems,
gawking at an idol.

I won't do this anymore,
I've suffered my damages
paid my fines
and checked out

So bring your guests,
have your parties,
lay your heart out
I wont pick up your pieces.

Because my love,
as much as it hurts,
you're hotel despondent,
and I won't be staying anymore.

The Stardust Inn had no sails of silk.

The wooly sheets chafed his sunburnt face. He couldn’t sleep with all those demons glaring at him. The bitch maids never washed the blankets and they stank like dead goats. Nobody ever cleaned his room, or bothered to replace the soap, or replace the dead lightbulbs, or fix the faulty ceiling fan.

The potpourri made the goat smell worse, somehow.

Dead goat. Dead flowers. Dead people. Dead tired.

It was hard to mend a broken soul, surrounded by such paper-thin walls. He’d lay listening to men and women shuffle horizontally, sweating and thrusting themselves raw beneath the scratchy sheets in the bed next door.

A cockroach scurried away across the carpet, over the bare foot of the Ghost where it sat crooked upon a chair in the dark. He always wanted to tell that Ghost, if it’d just fix its posture it might get some rest – but instead, never said anything at all.

The woman next door out-moaned the wind. He looked up at the Ghost, and the Ghost at him with large black eyes. He could almost hear that tortured spirit say;

“Now you know what I’ve had to deal with.”

#ghost   #sex   #hotel   #stardust   #haunted  
The hotel
Terry Collett

The hotel
landlady
met Nima
and Benny
at the desk.

Newly-weds?
She asked them.

We're the Coles
I book it,
Benny said,
on the phone.

The woman
ran a thin
finger down
the book page:
here it is,
she muttered,
when did you
get married?

Yesterday.
Nima said.

A Friday?
The woman
said surprised.

Small affair,
just us two
and two friends
to witness,
Nima said.

Not pregnant
already
are you dear?

No not yet,
Nima said.

O that's good,
anyway
I'll show you
to your room.

Benny took
the 1 bag
to the room
following
the woman
and Nima.

Here it is,
she told them,
and unlocked
the white door;
she showed them
about then
she went off.

Not too bad:
got a bed,
a tall boy,
chest of drawers,
a TV,
Nima said.

Benny felt
the large bed
with his hand
then sat down
and bounced it:
bed's not bad.

Shall we now?
Nima said
try it out?

If you like,
Benny said

so began
to undress
(after they'd
drawn the dull
brown curtains).

Nima was
down to her
underwear,
when a knock
hit the door.

Who is it?
Benny asked
stark naked.

I've brought you
some towels,
forgot them,
the woman
informed them.

He opened
the white door,
put out his
head and hand,
his body
hidden there.

O thank you,
Benny said,
taking two
white towels
carefully
from the old
girl's hands:
just changing
our clothing,
he muttered
looking at
the woman.

She half smiled
and walked off.

He closed the
door slowly
put the two
white towels
on the side,
then looked at
Nima there
in her pink
underwear.

Do we dare?
She uttered.

He nodded.

She undressed
completely.

They both got
into bed
and lay back
listening
for a knock,
but none came,
so they hugged
and got on
with the game.

A BOY AND GIRL PRETEND TO BE MARRIED TO GTE A HOTEL ROOM IN 1967.
#girl   #boy   #hotel   #1967epsom  
 
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