october 18th, 2009

goodnight.


at the millennium hotel

when you can’t fall asleep
in a foreign city
on a foreign bed
you reach for something
be it the keys
the scotch
the television
or a lock of hair to twirl
and you wake up relieved
crusty
jaded
and wonder how
and when you fell asleep
but you usually remember
the bleak feeling
that squirt through your veins
moments before darkness
when every sound was hushed
and you didn’t know whether to cry
or laugh