(no subject)
I just don't care anymore. And when everyone shuts their doors in my face and the hotel closes for the night I'll curl up on the sofa in the lobby and sleep till morning under yesterday news. nothing ever changes and every six months i just want to run away from it all again. only this time there is no europe and the trains won't be running in the morning. continental breakfast please concierge and a strong black coffee to wake me up and let me understand that people close their doors for a reason, and the pay-to-view repeats of their own lives are more interesting than what is happening in the corridor we use to share. even the door that was always wide open is only open a crack. although I'm beginning to wonder if it ever was as open as my half-closed eyes made believe. i just don't care any more. I've lost my room. I can't remember the number, or even if I had one. Maybe I lived in other people's rooms, borrowed their problems to dress my vacant ribcage. And no one is answering the bell at the front counter and the cleaners have packed up and gone home. last night's sex disinfected and new hospital corners tucked into stiff white sheets. I just don't care anymore. i don't have time for you because no one has time for me.