Hotel Paper

I'm sitting on this
pre-made bed
with all the edges tucked in
as per regulation
and the fabric striking
the standard as it clashes roughly
with the drooping drapes
and I'm writing writing writing
on these slips of paper they leave here
stamping their names and location
clearly, concisely
i wish i could
i'll attempt with this plastic pen
to explain who i am
what i mean and why i'm writing
and i'm failed before i begin

but what else to do in this midnight room
where the only noise is the stuttered cough
of the vents shoving stale air through
and you try to remember not to breathe
because in here theres still the trace of others
who have also sat
gingerly against these sheets
crumpled them in the heat of their dreams
and left them limp in the morning
to stumble on their way to somewhere
i don't know where i'm going

i write that down
looking at how the ink stands crisp
against the paper and wonder
if thats enough
if that will vindicate me
in the eyes of those that will follow
that failure to dream is my only crime
and of that i may be excused
in that these pillows are greasy
with the wistful wicked wandering thoughts of others
and i cannot bear to lay my head down
and let them creep into my ears to whisper
i am one who is forgotten

i write that too
and sit watching the lights flash up
against the wall and slide past
as metal worlds go on
down and down the high ways
carrying other people places that they know
and that they are known
what a strange place, thing
to be so unmasked so sure of your place
i don't know who i am

i write that down
and then stop
thinking about all the roads ahead me
all the places i could be will be someday
and carefully, cautiously
pick up the pen again
and write

yet.

satisfied i let the pen fall
yet.
that is who i am what is my worth
all in that little word
tied up in one syllable
i am still a possibility
a long shot of a win
but still i'm going to pull the trigger
and send myself spinning into the dark
because i have this to hold to
yet.
so i will sleep in this room
and wake and walk out the door
leaving this note
that begins to define me
for the stranger that follows
and maybe he too will grasp the power
that lies within that forgiving word...

on second thought i will not sleep
but watch the night wheel by
somewhere the stars are shining
where you are
i have not found you

yet