Late Night Motel

Thirty dollars a night
No air conditioning
I lay half naked on the bed
Single bed in the middle under the single hanging light bulb.
Towels underneath me
I don’t dare touch the covers.
I scatter my clothes on the floor,
They’re dirty anyway
I remind myself, shake them free
Of whatever is crawling through them
Turn the light off, so I don’t have to see
Walls painted grey
Paint flaking here, there,
collecting on the bare floorboards
Where my clothes collect dust mites
I can start to feel them crawl
Possibly, underneath my skin.
I scratch and scratch with out relief
What is happening to me? 
My skin, pink and raw
Pain, the only relief from the itching.

I can hear the sounds through the walls
Snoring, coughing, crying.
The low murmurs of people making love,
Or are they just fucking their way into happiness,
With a stranger that they met,
On the street corner,
Across from the Motel.
Road House singing outside,
A fight in the parking lot.
An airplane soaring overhead,
Landing in the nearby airport.
Passengers oblivious of the degenerate nature of this city.
You are sleeping on top of the covers,
But I can't sleep.
The cockroaches are scratching down the walls,
pulling down the remainder of the paint.
It falls to the floor as they scatter.
The sun is finally starting to come up.