coughing on the smog that rests in the halls
the air polluted by the hopelessness of guests.
the putrid smell of bodies drifts through
the doorway and into my closet.
grasping for the broken windows,
trying to get a breath of sympathy.
scrambling to offer my best wishes,
the lock on the door is jammed.
waiting just outside, standing between
floral wallpaper hastily pasted on,  
my only gleam of justice.
running, sprinting, crawling
to find a way out of this.
the elevators,
perpetually moving.
the stairs,
littered with
old shoes, ***** towels,
and meaningless burdens that weighed
too heavy on one shoulder.
amidst the flickering neon lights,
we sit waiting for nothing.