what this hotel room wants

No latch. Amends. A worst case. A solstice. Someone to wade waist-deep in its wallpaper & feel the trembling hand of god. To know why children scream when they come here, fears unpadded in the fold-down box. A break from the windows vending darkness. Someone to set the thermostat to deadly. Someone wasted at 3AM to smudge the bloodsong of mosquitos on the wall. No one sick in the cockpit bathroom. To inspect. To insult. Someone to take notice. Fingernails to follow the shallows of resin in the upscale headboard, thumbs to pick bubbles of polish free from insomnia like they’d skin everything. To survive on less of you. Strain on the guyropes of the quilt. Linoleum arced with prayer & carbon, habits of scalp to grey the pillow. Givens. A bootprint to stove in the fuselage of the hollow fridge. To be a fort. Or an orchard. To swallow outer darkness, mirror by mirror. Anything beautiful to hang in its closet. Someone to wield the cutlery as if they cared what dangled off the end. Someone to know the grey biographical carpet in its particulate loneliness, facedown fibres earthed by a fingertip driven through their midnight weft. Someone to be pierced. Predictions of meaningful rainfall. Someone to accost. Someone to straighten the roots of the curtains, balance the stump of the scuffed clay lamp. Someone to laugh in the brackish sink. Light to windmill in long-ago hair, a half-blonde dance of blinded lovers. Later checkouts, shellacked to the thighs. Someone to whisper to its interior. Something to seem motherfucking primordial, a cry like that kid in its padded trap, shaking its cot & launching every shit-curdled octave it’s got straight from blood at the centre. No one to behave. Holy scars on paper napkins. Or a bridge or a dancehall or a furnace or an airstrip. To place bets. To not be a temple to wasps. Corsages of sweat in its soft furnishings. Someone to stay. Someone to own. Foreclosure on footsteps departing on carpet. Someone to tell it what the joke is. The ceiling fan to travel for centuries.