Thirty-Seventh Floor Keio Plaza Nightmare Video (MV)

The air-conditioned silence
Of a Tokyo hotel room
Three decades ago
Punctuated only by flushing
And guests in neighbouring rooms
Coughing, lovemaking
Closing doors.

Anchored like boats fishing for squid
Dim lamplit pools
In a dislocation
Of time
On the far side of the dateline

Numbed by hotel suite brown
Scribbling sleepily
On complimentary stationery
Through nights of incomprehensible TV dialogue

Leaning
Four feet in from the left of the Little Bar
Stumbling
Down corridors measured in emergency light
To a dark room at the end
Hanging
DO NOT DISTURB
On a door
Where maid service
Knocks
Are ignored
And the phone rings
Unanswered

Rain watermarks the dawn
While death grows

But the dressing table
Mirror reflects just
A luxury bed-head
The wallpaper behind
A fractured arc of lamp glow
And no movement in the ghosting nightscape of glass

The only sound
The rising
Irritation
Of an unseen fly