Home > Enough about me., Literature > What Kind Of Hotel Did You Book Us Into?

What Kind Of Hotel Did You Book Us Into?

I’m a little hungover and unmotivated today, so I thought I would share this poem I wrote. It’s the follow up to ” A First Time For Everything.” The poem is about my experience from last September, when I was committed to the Psychiatric ward at a local hospital after having a mixed episode.

What kind of hotel did you book us into?

My chair rolls through doors as I float between the real and the surreal.

Cries of pain reverberate off the walls and through my head.

Is this new procedure for the Day’s Inn?

I’m ushered into a cold white room,

Stripped of clothes, possessions, and dignity.

I don’t care, I need a nap.

I doze on my little metal bed,

I hear voices in the hallway,

None of them are my mother’s, are they real?

Machines beep in the distance while I sleep, where the hell am I?

She’s somewhere close by, I need to comfort her.

“I’m alright baby, I just need some rest.”

She takes my hand.

She’s brave and scared at the same time, how does that happen?

Off I go to get my head examined, “hey my bed rolls too!”

They stick my head in a doughnut, they find nothing.

I’m not surprised.

They reserve me a room, away I go again in my rolling chair,

Adorned in my plain threads of madness.

Did the airline lose my luggage again?

The elevator stops at my floor,

The bellhop wheels me through doors, why do they lock behind me?

I make my grand entrance into the hotel lobby,

The other patrons aren’t happy to be there, why?

Suddenly I’m scared.

And angry too, what’s that about?

Soothing tones come from my partner,

Are you checking in too? I hope we get a king sized bed!

I’m in my room, not many amenities, where’s the TV?

The bellhop leaves, the maid takes my pulse and temperature.

Why does everyone keep asking me if I want to hurt myself?

I don’t like it here

I tell the manager I want to check out.

She insists that I’m booked for at least 4 days.

I feel panic and anger, panger.

They tell my lover it’s time to go

Since when does a hotel have visiting hours?

I walk her through the lobby of despair to the first locking door

I cling to her, bury myself inside her embrace.

Can I hide in your purse?

She exits through the vault door, I hope she’s ok.

I rush past the other patrons, they scare me.

I close my door, hide in my bed and cry.

Worst hotel ever, it’s only getting one star.

  1. April 17, 2011 at 10:46 am

    Maybe you should use a different travel agent next time. 🙂 Just kidding. That sounds like an awful thing to go through. Hope you’re doing better these days.


  2. April 17, 2011 at 10:57 am

    Thanks Ben, I am doing better. It took a few months of adjusting my medication to the right level, but for the moment my disorder seems to be under control. Getting it under control did come with a price however. the medications often leaves me incredibly groggy, and my memory is worse than ever. I often go through periods when I’m unmotivated, and my school work has dropped off slightly because of it. I’ve gained 30 pounds since I’ve gone on the meds as well.

    With all things being equal however, I’ll take the trade-off. I would rather suffer through a few side affects, than go through the hell that I dealt with for almost 40 years.


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