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Just another lost splinter of you
They say you sense the ghosts of the other guests who resided within ( you touch the wall ) this hotel room. You note the stains, worn spots, greasy curtain hems, where the furniture is scuffed and the mattress bends. The waste paper bin’s base, under plastic bag, soiled with a seeping, sticky, festering slag. In the bathroom more patinated erosion. Toilet wear from unseen explosions. The full length mirror’s photographic mind. Sad sights, sad acts, physical and mental decline. This, however, is not what has made you reflective. Rather, the knowledge that when you check out you will leave your ghost abandoned with those others. Just another lost splinter of you, walking in untethered confusion, in all of this, a purgatory, never to be reconnected.
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