spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
Somewhere east along Highway 37 A neon sign flashes intermittently vacancy The Scarecrow Hotel remains alone Stained threadbare carpets muffle TVs And tearful phone conversations Sixteen parking spaces yet only four filled Warm shower and a sagging bed for the night The ancient bricks… Continue Reading “Scarecrow Hotel – Collaboration”
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Butterwell's Blog
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