There are 2 exits.
3, if you count a 6 story drop.
She accepts it
i just want to stop.

There's a table, some chairs.
Decorated with some sort of dead or dying flower.
Her tracing fingers, my raising hairs.
Rats run in the shower.

i can't find the carpet
she found the bed
with my fate set
to that room i was led.

the seconds ran miles
my mind went too
she called these acts, trials
to lose your youth.

When it was over
your sweat turning stale
you called me your lover
i called you my jail.

Hotels were meant
For trouble
Just make it double
Or triple
Well, You get the point

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 ***** 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.”

white sheets in a strange room
dim lights, bright eyes.
i love it when you **** me, i love it when you're inside of me.

The way you make me feel is incredible. Nothing like the first, nothing like the second, I may have loved them but, not like I love you. I have never met anyone that makes me feel the way you do. My head filled with a no vacancy sign, but the electricity was out; somehow you fixed it. That "no" shines brighter than it ever has before.

When you said, "When you put your hands on me." The thought I caused you even just for a moment, to be afraid of me, just breaks my heart. For you filled my life with nothing, but natural smiles and joy rides. I wish I would have appreciated and it all more.

I'm the last man on this earth who should take anyone willing to enter my dark, closed off & broken structure. Anyone willing to enter my life of chaos and mystery is more daring than any human before. If you persist, you'll come to the place that shatters the pain those with reckless hearts left me. You'll open a pure, passionate soul. To get to the damaged site, you will have to fight through the maze. Those who hid my affection left no map. I think you were almost there. You had me but like most something in my destroyed halls of lost love. My guards spooked you off. You ran far away and left me empty again. Lonely again. I had begun to draft our story. I'm hoping you'll decide whatever barricade halted your journey, brings you back. My hand hurts from writing first drafts. I desire our story to be everlasting. So long the Bible envies it.

If you can make it to the place where love is locked, you have found the key. The key to my heart. Promise me to leave that no on my vacancy sign forever lit.

miniscule cracks
lining the ceiling of your bedroom
chart out the abuse of
occupants who took
for granted the
memories spilling over
molded window sills  

but the cracks lining
each chamber of my
heart
chart out the abuse
of you

an occupant who was
far too familiar
with the way this
house twists and turns

even when vacancy
was no longer a
grungy sign swinging
from rusted chains

but a cry for help
-DDF