ass end of hope

the world is dead
except for the thunderous
air condition in
the hotel room
no birdsong trills
over the concrete
wasteland that is the
view of the city
afforded by the days inn
at the back end of
oklahoma city oklahoma

there is a mattress
in the stairwell
that was there when
i checked in and is
still there this morning
slashed with springs
that glint in the
yellow lighting
and i stop myself from
pulling it off the wall
and looking for a
rust colored stain
soaked deeply into the
aged ivory abomination

seven cars in the
parking lot outside
and i am the first down
to breakfast where
it feels as if i am
a nuisance disturbing
an otherwise pleasant day
dreading the trip
six minutes away where
i am woefully
unprepared to the task
in which the trip itself
was predicated on
i need coffee to kickstart
the cardiac unrest
because the world feels
so goddamned empty
and i don’t want to
take part in the
extravagance any longer

is this all there is
another vantage to the
same utter depression
choking on broken dream
at the ass end of hope?

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