Great I've arrived at four square hotel with my fellow peers.
Friends from popschool, posing and putting on laughs and sneers.
They tell me the writer here, to get with the program.
They didn't have vacancies, I took what I could manage.
Down the rocks a little is the rest of the village.
A tourist stop with bars and even a few party venues.
The crowd line up to get into buses so young and new.
The charismatic friends single me out as an introvert inside.
They tell me directly to my face- you are not invited.
-You can stay here, play with yourself. They derided
-You are a buzz killer, there's just no fun with you.
I turn to go, two guests turn to me and stare.
As if they would actually prefer me there.
They look toward me through the back window of the bus.
I look back at them. The engine starts without fuss.
The window rolls down on the nearby lamborghini.
-Stay out of our way freak! he said meanly.
I looked up to the amassing cloud.
Then back at that back window gossip seeping.
Now there were three or four people.
Men and women waving to me in such wist.
One made a hearthshape another blew a kiss.
Big wheels clicked then rolled, charismatic heads swelling.
Heading to pleasure seekers village when they'd return no telling.
I wasn't invited, so i went back to the dark rooms of the mountain hotel.
There I wrote and wrote until my skin became paper.
My blood became ink then swirling vapor.
Soul stretched into a long etched scroll.
I filled up the corridors and every room of that hotel.
My words fell down in the hill onto the roads.
Like fat rain or small plump bouncing toads.
Some of them entered the buses open windows.
Then I was there among them.
Subject to their attempts at icebreakers
and their attempts to sneak drinks.
volume fall and volume rose.
My words gathered into form.
A figure of prose.
One of the charismatics poked his head around and got up.
-How did he get on the bus? He demanded exactly.
The rest stayed quiet just looking at the charismatic.
The charismatic screamed louder- Get him off the bus!
Eyes narrowed onto the charismatic with distrust.
Someone whispered. -Yuck.
The charismatic reeled in horror.
Sporadically giggles peeled out of the bus corridor.
The charismatic flustered ruddy beat red in the face.
The adams apple rose and fell in complete disgrace.
He attempted Nonchalance but a hidden tick had surfaced.
I was writing of all this from that dark little hotel room.
Up in that mountain I wrote into the late afternoon.
The fire was lit and the words just flowed like rising sparks.
Shaping their situations with literary archane art.
I could see the bus stopping and the charismatic get out.
The rowdy party goers abusive gestures and shouts.
You will have to face everything eventually,
came a voice to his ear.
From your smallest offence to your greatest fear.
