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this hotel came highly recommended
a second-floor room overlooking the park
opulently decorated and modern, at a discount
a solid wall of floor to ceiling windows
the streetlights framing the park beautifully
even at this time of night

there is just one problem…
there is no way to close these curtains

the damned things won’t budge
i tug and tug and tug and tug
but the damned things won’t budge
i nearly rip them off the wall
but the damned things won’t budge

the front desk has no other rooms
a knowing giggle from the elegannza in the lobby
thanks for nothing i guess

it’s time to MacGyver the things
a few wooden coat hangers, towels, and a whole roll of dental floss later
nothing… dammit
i can’t even hang a blanket over the rod
there is no rod, just a box the rises into the ceiling

i settle into what is bound to be a restless sleep
a double dose of Klonopin
a pair of boxer shorts resting over my eyes
the once lovely street lights mocking me
their flare-level rays blaze
another two pairs of boxers join the first
including the ones i was wearing all day

nothing shields me from the light
i pull the blanket over my eyes
nothing shields me from the light
i turn face down, cutting off my breath
it’s finally gone but to what end?
i turn back over breathing heavily
nothing non-lethal shields me from the light

i lay there for a moment and breathe deeply
a day of travel invading my nose
nothing distracts me
i try humming a lullaby
nothing distracts me
i gesticulate and groan wildly

perhaps a pallet on the bathroom floor will suffice
nope
this damn new-fangled opulent hotel room has no bathroom door
modern design sucks – i think to myself
"fancy design is stupid" – i grunt aloud

back to the bed, boxers back on my head
i face away from the windows and silently pray
‘dear lord, grant me the will to sleep’
no dice
too many times disavowing god for her to listen to me now
perhaps i should go back to church

next comes apoplectic visions of Armageddon fire
surely Clive Barker wrote a book about this once
Or Stephen King…
what was The Stand about again? or Tommyknockers?

i twist and contort my body trying to block it out
it’s like the Kama Sutra but lonely
then visions:
visions of ashen bodies baking in the sun
visions of hot trash-laden urban blight
visions of burning hot summer beaches
visions of rampaging wildfires

YES burn, perhaps that is the way
free from my boxer eye-prison, i open my eyes
i stare out at the lights, refusing to blink
i will the fire to take my eyes
surely these hellish angel lights are here to punish
i see random shapes around the edge of my vision
my eyes water, streaming my cheeks
to no avail – my eyes are sore but fine

what’s left to try?
all seems hopeless
i seize my house keys from the desk
i try to muster the courage to blind myself
brave-coward…
i’ve never been able to take pain
even the will for death eludes me
brave-coward…

in a fit of desperation, i pray again
aloud this time…
“god, please extinguish thy devilish lights”
“cast them out oh lord”
nothing
i was right, she doesn’t exist

i set myself to wait it out
mind rushing, i sit with my knees pulled up to my chin
words fill my thoughts
whole poems form and rip apart in the air before me
bits of torn paper dancing in the blazing lights
i could capture these and have a book by morning
but I have no will
i sit and shake

morning comes and the lights go out just as the sun appears
the bastards got that timing right
i shuffle my feet to the chrome and glass shower
letting the cold water stream down my face

thirty minutes later i am at the front desk
a new glamazon smiling their morning smile
“how was your stay sir?”
“fine,” i say.
“we hope to see you next time you’re in town.”
a grunt.

i walk away and think about the night
this hellscape experience was oddly thrilling
retrospect makes it philosophical
philosophy makes it intriguing 
perhaps i will stay here again sometime