Day's Inn

The cough-er in the next room
a-hergh
a-hergh
every two minutes,
I thought maybe smoking pot
a-herr ah hergk
how lucky to have him next to me;
is whatever he's got
creeping underneath my door?
The creeping dread is what I got,
creeping around in the bed,
creeping inside my head;
can't shake the
joylessness of an
existential what-ever
contracted from
somewhere; maybe on the ride
to this room that
looks like all the others
in this chain hotel
I am bound-up
inside.