The Motel RoomA Chapter by MachinaWriterThis is the eight poem in my compilation, A Tragic Story...It’s scuttling I watch it dart through the vines stitched into my cover As I'm huddling At the edge, just struggling To contain my thoughts, -but the bugs are infesting, Crawling inside my brain and nesting The room smells of damp sex, cigarette smoke turned sour- stale beer stained into the carpet a harvest of mold for the next year Of unpaid roommates Who scuttle between the plaster Maybe I should talk to the old b*****d Who charges forty-five a night for a room he claims is a master- -bed S**t, I doubt it’s even that It looks like a twin, and I can see where the rat- -chewed a hole through the wall Its droppings the only sign, he'd been here at all Lost in thought, the end of my cigarette's burnt out, ashen from neglect And I've still yet To leave this room in time to get Another pack But my bottle's empty, and its nearly noon So I'll need to be leaving soon The wall rumbles Releasing more roommates Hidden in the walls To seek escape And I laugh at the girl's fake screams as she works to make the pay S**t, she's doing better than me, so who am I to say A word of judgment, anyway I open the bottle and take another pill Maybe when I get back she'll be still If not, at least my bottle will be filled And I can shut it out -my mind finally killed. © 2012 MachinaWriterAuthor's Note
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2 Reviews Added on September 17, 2012 Last Updated on September 17, 2012 AuthorMachinaWriterSpringfield, ILAboutMy original passion has always been in writing stories. Most of them were fantasy stories, because I always wanted to escape. That's what it was. An escape from the troubles of life. Joining this site.. more..Writing
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