Thirteen floors of tired
Thousands of square feet of I don’t care
Mirrors in a quiet dark hall
Cold, like the tile floor
Stone, like the fountain outside
Dribbling water out her lips
A pathetic trickle
Parody of regal airs
Half slumped, curtains fallen
Slide down the stairs
A cat yawns
Cat’s don’t give a fuck
Unless there’s pets or meat
An old man or…no
Is that a shadow?
In the yellowing orange seat
This place is too quiet, too empty
Like it’s asking to be haunted
By something, anything
That has the passion to cling, to grip
Four fingers and a thumb
Pressed cold clutching at the porcelain lip
Even the rain is tired
Even the face of pain fails to inspire.

Thirteen floors
Fourteen with the basement
Walls, staying strong, standing up
Panning out, the grounds were once
An exercise in perseverance, will
Now not so much