I saw all.
Despite the petty attempts of suffocating me with that tacky pattern, I saw all. Rimmed with yellow urban moss, I was not blinded by the nicotine. The stench that spewed from the cracks in the window (although repulsive) could not force me to leave. The flavours of futility swam through the room and into my throat. Still I would not bow out. The wuss of a door handle quivered as a cackle erupted behind it. We had a guest.
Falling to the floor, a woman with matted hair glued together with vomit entered. Grasping the bed, she attempted to bring herself back up and off the ground. She failed. Her purse no longer on her person. God knows where that was. She didn't give a shit as long as the white powder she had was still wedged in her bra. A few sambuca shots later, she forgot it all. Sorting the coke into three lines, she realised there was no way she could sleep here another night.
Our next guest was a man with an upturned pig nose. Some may argue this resembled his true identity. With his ring conveniently lost in the midst of his bag, a girl showed up. Thus, there were a few cracks in his vows. When three minutes of fun were over, he realised that there was no way he could sleep here another night.
Our final guest paid a visit hammer in hand. Knocking me off my feet with no mercy. The community thrived in pitiless happiness. The grungy motel was shutting down. That's when I realised there was no way I could sleep here another night.
I saw all.
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