Vacancy Poem by Kevin Patrick

Lemonade rains from a red tin ceiling
Dripping onto junk mail caked into piles
as sad ink runs down to rainbow rivers

Drifting softly, into many moonlight miles

And in the corner, by the frozen heater
Stand four iron men with their backs to each other
Each holds a candle, bar the four winds course

Their elements are slowly turned asunder

The artist paints the gang, play a game of poker
As their femme fatal stands in for death
Suspicious glances, duel in paranoid silence

The mascot falcon weepily draws its final breath

Now the house mouse plays the smallest violin
To a crowd of specters drawn from the blinds
With sounds so divine their beyond human ear

As Heaven sneaks through, the keyholes secret light

And all the walls whisper, schizophrenic secrets
Of the residents thoughts from the pasts and future
til dreams are lost and rooms are filled with ghosts

And I wake up knowing the check-ins coming sooner


But I can't see the door but I know where it goes
It meets us in the hallway when taste our last fear
Meeting me there at the end of the world circus


When the neon lights toll, the rooms vacancy hear