He wipes his face on the sick, vomit and peppermint smelling towel
Ignoring the disgusting smell of urine wafting in front of his nose
Anything to get 'clean,' though the towel isn't exactly...
He shakes it all off, spraying a hint of cologne to stifle the stench
But only makes it worse.
He clamors out, gasping for a breath of clean air, but the hallway...
It isn't better.
It has the stench of sex and smoke, instead of sick puddles and piss
He absentmindedly debates which smells better, but cannot choose
One over the other
Because neither is pleasant
He stumbles down the hall, ignoring the sounds from the attached rooms,
Which only has a curtain between them and the world.
He thinks it's disgusting.
Quite simply, I agree.
But he cannot change this- it is his way of life.
He hates it.
He falls asleep on the day bed
Only to be woken up by a drunk man
Who is lying on top of him
And no scream can save him
Because here, everyone screams
And no one cares for them.