the loneliest hotel room in the world

…is on the twelfth floor of east Hastings street
where the evangelists come
seeking the incomplete where
psychosis compels rebelling
against painted shut windows where
I have gone brown like a leaf the

hand outstretched
complete you hear as I
devise devising knowing the
voices are wrong always
wrong like a lover
ruinous in the world
genius in her use of zero
laughter applause
knocking at the door
saturate in the hall
haunted as I’m
sure they do as I’m
sure they are as I
have twice paid my rent there are
faults & folds I am
mountain ranges surfacing
fingers straights, breaking
no one has asked

consent is fantasy

 

 

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