1461 red lions

red lion motel
the beds are nice and quilted with a thousand different colors. the bath tiles are a soft toothpaste teal outlined using short and wide black squares. the bath tub stained a soft yellowp-green when youre lurched over it

i sat on there the way i was hundred osmething days ago and it makes sense because its cheap, its really cheap and really small and really, really lonely. no one comes through unless theres solicitation

i dont think ive ever seen who manages the place no matter how many days i sat on a bed just like the one with rainbow bedsheets crumpled beneath my ass. no one washes those sheets but in the moment i dont think i thought twice about it when i laid naked on that filth, didnt think twice even when my stomach indented against the bath tub to dispel whatever sickness id stored deep in my body, didnt think twice about the transparent buzz of aerobic disease that hung in the air. the whole room smelled like the palm of ones hands after you get hungover in a strangers car, hot and dried over with love

takeout, drove off 306 and violated all aspects of ones body through 6:18-20, got a whole bottle of vodka to myself. he played with my hair till i couldnt bear the stench of his car completely stuffed with dry, thick air, he said i should go blond. id look good blond. i miss being blond

nothing makes up for those long days, those long summers, where the seasons all blended into one and id sit myself half-naked and upright against the railing smoking something good, something that tasted so awful but originated from the pocket of another to support the idea of charity. summer never ended until it abruptly did, though itll never end in my mind. i hear the loud air conditioner and the chirping of far-off bugs, i smell dirt dug into my rotten knees, i smell when he'd spit on my face, in my hair. i miss that life, i regret coming back, i am not meant for this life. i belong to the home i selfishly abandoned in a conquest for normalcy, normalcy i am not built for

whoever gets me menthol now doesnt get the kind i like even though its the same cigarettes, i dont know his face as i never look at him, but i know his voice. id tell him the next time that whatevber hes buying is absolute shit, it doesnt taste like the summer heat dripping off your skin, it doesnt smell like him, it doesnt smell like what things were

some guy paid for my uber to and from his house, he dropped me off to the border of PA and i hitched a ride into philadelphia to brownbag down aisles of tall brick houses with barred windows

i ended up at red lion motel