The Hotelier N 43° 59′ 38.927″ W 71° 23′ 45.27”

We sit and we talk, not of much but of little.

I see the moon, the moon sees me.

I would smile but it would be meaningless.

I wouldn’t want it to be.

But in the landscape of tilted heads,

While the sky sheds skin on my body,

I feel my voice quiet to a halt,

And this is where I am.

You in this light feels new/woken,

Woven deep until the roots touch dryness,

Against the fallen limb of oaken.

This place speaks.

It says many things of nothing.

Makes no demands,

And offers no salvation.

Only repeats what you say in a way you’ve never heard it.

An echo off the far wall.

A reflection of your face.

I see the moon.

The moon sees me.

That’s enough.

The Hotelier Extinction

So sweep it under the rug.

No we’re not the same.

We all grow and change,

But it’s safe to say we found ourselves in today.

They say all that matters is what’s inside.

I kept it all inside.

Just a stones throw away

From a friendship you let slip away.

I’m finding out I can’t be me,

And I’m doing this for me.

So long to distant frowns,

And being let down.

Say goodbye to the old earth.

It’s about time, now I find my way.

It’s the times I ask myself,

Where would I be without all my friends,

And the stories we’ve made?

So its safe to say,

No longer heading for extinction,

The only right way

Is my way.

The Hotelier Holiday

What would you say

If we lived every day like it were a holiday?

Well you say you’re a realist well I really

Know what I want, just figuring out how to get there

On the back of happy thoughts and giving what we’ve got

To all the people who’ve helped us unlearn what we were taught

About art, about love, about dreams, about work,

Just to fuel the system that is treating us like dirt.

And through singing songs late every single night

And screaming PUNK ROCK SAVED MY FUCKING LIFE!

What would you say

If we loved every day like it were a holiday?

The Hotelier Housebroken

We called off your guard as we entered the yard to convince you to redirect some of that rage.

Because who fed you rocks while they ate their Thanksgiving

And who left you out all alone in their cage?

And when you were a pup,

Well I watched you so close.

You ran straight to the distance allowed by his post.

You got kicked. You got choked.

Phrases crept up your spine when he said “we must keep our bitches in line”.

And on his poker nights, he says the same of his wife.

He’s the top-dog, pack leader, a true alpha-male.

So, make no sudden moves.

Keep your nose from the border.

You move fast, you eat last this side of pecking order.

So, why don’t you come with me?

We’ve got acres with streams.

We won’t keep you in cages

Or make you beg for your treats.

We won’t tell you to heel though you might need some time

To dig up those old bones your young self left behind.

You said “your offer is nice but here should suffice.

Yeah, my younger years were something but that isn’t my life.

Master’s all that I’ve got.

He keeps me having a purpose.

Gives me bed, keeps me fed.

And I’m just slightly nervous of what I might do

If I were let loose,

If I caught that mail car,

Or ate garbage for food.

So, as I bare all my teeth, I will ask of you please to just leave.

Well your heart has spoken.

I feel you’re already house broken.

Well, I made you the hood ornament for an oncoming car

Because your bark might seem bad but I’ll show you the scars

From when the state sent you over to deliver your teeth

To the heels of your kindred breaking chains from their feet.

And then you wipe your hands clean.

Splash of water. Paper napkin.

While the parrots sing headlines,

We wear the leash like a fashion.

Try to take out my claws

Expect a visceral reaction.

Try to muzzle me up

I’ll lash out and bite back

And keep my options open

For fear of becoming house―

The Hotelier Among The Wildflowers

You we born on a leap year. Fill in the gaps.

Spinning gears keep catching your cracks,

Skipping teeth, keep calling you back,

Telling stories pretending they’re fact.

Let me go. Too unstable to wane.

Chewing wildflowers to numb the pain.

Cut the lines.

You’ll be fine

But if you break when I break, will you carry me away?

Will you fall on your blade just to hear when I’m saying I can’t?

You came out. Started bruising.

Find it tough to admit when you’re losing.

Oh, what should I think?

Carefully crafted commercial disaster.

They take what you’re after

To get what they want out of you.

Cut the lines.

You’ll be fine

But if you break when I break, will you carry me away?

Will you fall on your blade just to hear when I’m saying I can’t?

Dissociate from touch.

You’re tilting to pull

The others with you.

Posed Shakespearean skull,

We see in different pictures.

You play the imperial stealing the power to waste away.

You took the comfort from the lights in her soul.

Projected map of the body: it’s crass, abject, colonial.

You passed dis-ease presented to you at birth.

Held underwater told to scream your self worth.

(It wasn’t good enough.)

Entrust the secrets to the backs of your arms.

Killing the self as to protect it from harm.

“What would you do if someone hurt your best friend’s feelings

To the point where they become insane?”

“I would say something that made them stop,

Or I would just text him and try not to let the bully touch them,

Just try to block them from doing that.

If I got punched, that’s okay because, it’s not okay because,

I would try and get the other person safe, cause I was only in the middle of it.

But I would try and help somebody not get hurt”

The Hotelier Southern Discomfort

I am

I’m tearing up pieces of old news

To mend all the leaks in my open wounds.

They’re telling you everything.

But it’s okay,

I’ve felt this before,

But trust me there’s nothing,

On the other side of the door…

Or at least nothing more.

I’m just jealous cause you fell out of love

With the one thing that you always seemed to be so free of.

And if you can’t find comfort in what we should have known,

Then I guess we’re better on our own.

It’s life’s lesson taught a little too well.

The only thing you have forever’s always kept in its cell.

You know we won’t find comfort if we’re both on our own.

So let’s make the best of the time that we’re shown.

So proposed.

How does light seep into a mind so closed?

You’re only focused on what glows.

And it’s been burning holes in hearts –

Planning lives before they start.

There’s only three points to home;

Grow, work, alone.

There must be something.

We can’t be carved in stone.

I’m just jealous cause you fell out of love

With the one thing that you always seemed to be so free of.

And if you can’t find comfort in what we should have known,

Then I guess we’re better on our own.

It’s life’s lesson taught a little too well.

The only thing you have forever’s always kept in its cell.

You know we won’t find comfort if we’re both on our own.

So let’s make the best of the time that we’re shown.

And now it’s pulling us apart.

And now it’s pulling us apart.

It’s taken us, shaken us.

I feel like I have mistaken us

As simple things with wedding rings.

Abandoning what our future brings.

The Hotelier Named After An Inside Joke

Wake me up.

Let me know you’re still alive.

I try to sleep it off.

But dreams aren’t working on my side.

I can’t say goodbye.

How have you been these past years?

You still swim like a current through the oceans of my mind.

And I’ve been counting down the days of my life.

Still beating myself up all this time.

And I hope to see your face within the next few years,

And I hope that you can see me.

You’re burning bridges, carving memorial plaques that say “Closed Indefinitely.”

You did the burning, sent the smoke signals reading “To all friends: Wake me up”

I can’t find sunlight. I’ve only seen skies of blue and gray.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I fear you’ll just talk to me and say it’s all okay.

I know it’s not okay.

I hope that you wake up enough to know that I’m still here,

And I hope you don’t forget me.

If I could write you one last letter,

I’d hope it sinks in to any measure that I miss you,

That we miss you, including post-scripted reminders.

And I hope the world comes crashing down around your ears,

And I hope that you can see me through all these fucking tears.

And I hope don’t forget me.

And I hope don’t forget me.

And I hope don’t forget me.

The Hotelier Weathered

You were awakened.

I was never asleep.

I was just drilling some holes in my head that perpetually bled.

You fed your senses.

I made art of myself.

I drew bear claws on my chest and third eyes on my head looking down.

It was live, it was all live ammunition in the gun.

And I meant it, every bullet, and I hope they all stung,

Cause that’s what I deal with every time I lift up the back of my shirt

And I show you what you drew that night with a Swiss Army Knife saying it was only maps of constellations.

Your hands were shaking.

Mine were stiff as stones.

They said grab a hold. We said fuck off we’ll find our way home.

My blood was burning.

Yours was spilling out.

We said we’d fly to the end of the earth just to find ourselves.

And your heart, it was not there when I needed it the most.

I was floating. It was grounded, getting buried too deep to stay close.

And I swore I’d dig it up someday, build a fire just to keep it warm.

Then we’ll get off the ground and drink rain from the clouds and go dance out in the storm.

Because birds we fly together.

I feel tethered, de-feathered, and weathered.

A push at its best would get me out my nest

Then I’ll never come home.

It was love. It was true love,

Not that shit sold from Hallmark, Hollywood, or Wal-Mart.

I’m losing twelve years worth of soul mates,

And it’s harder and realer than anything I’ve ever felt.

The Hotelier End Of Reel

First breath following wakes of the

Palms pressed, brushed on my arm and then

Wave stretched sending me off to descend,

Leading me into the bend.

Keep pulsing my hand to the beat of you.

Shapeless hiss hanging over the

Mixes of midnight and twilight.

It passes, dims to make space and suspend

While she’s singing her swan song again.

It got stuck in my head as the sound of you.

In the night, we will celebrate cyclical spin

As we ritually send off the fire at both ends

Yet I’m blanketed, wet with the thought in my head:

I don’t know what I want, what I want’s where I’ve been

The kind of thing that hangs inside a moment.

A kiss of good that’s temperate and golden

That permeates the surface of the woven

And seeps into the piece of you inside of my head.

Goodness, present and hallowed

Is thanking walls of the shallow

Embankments for flowing in over the

Ranks of soldiering messes of

Dayglow blades scorched by hovering halos.

Washing away until I don’t even cringe at the thought of you.

In the light of the day, stabilize and reset

And then burn in the image until I can’t forget

And end ceaselessly speaking until nothing’s unsaid.

I don’t know what I want; what I want is where I’ve been.

In the night will rest you head into my hands

Will you disrupt this pattern from starting again?

If I ask you for nothing, will nothing there stand?

I don’t know what I want; what I wants where I’ve been.

I don’t know what I want; what I wants where I’ve been.

I don’t know what I want; what I wants where I’ve been.

I don’t know what I want; what I wants where I’ve been.

And oh, the resonant calm comes hard

And hums off the walls of the block uncarved.

It’s new, but I don’t know what to do

With the sight of you brimming.

The Hotelier Even The Keys Need To Be Locked Up

Please someone quickly take a picture of me,

So I can think of how I used to be

When restless feet turn to still defeat

And I settle down and out.

Please someone can you get a handle on me

Because we seem to find those in everything,

And if we couldn’t we tried, and if we didn’t we lied

That it’s easier to buy your way out.

I tend to be a little cynical

Of people selling me simple medicinals.

Nothing repetitious sounds like fun

Because “TRAMPS LIKE US, BABY, WE WERE BORN TO RUN!”

So let me know if you get stuck inside

Our safety culture’s ugly ties.

Break the ties that hold you still.

There is more to life than a steady pulse.

It’s fight or flight.

I guess we’re sleeping with the blindfolds on tonight.

I could find more hope in a rope hung from the highest clock tower

Where time tables fall through leaving hanged me and you.

There are just some things we can’t control like judgement death or getting old,

And no amount of fancy clothes, suburban homes, or undercover cops could save us.

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to always tell the difference.”