Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Sanctuary In Slumber

In a room full of addicts
(myself being one of them)
I am aware not of their
Bodies, but rather, their eyes.
All trained on me.

I feel no comfort,
No sympathy; this
Waiting room feels more
Like a prison, and
I'm awaiting my sentence.

For who gashes their wrists
With such anger and expects
No further consequences?

Perhaps only I.
But I am a fugitive
Escaping normalcy.
I find sanctuary in slumber,
Perhaps I am as normal as they.

I still prefer the knife to
Any drink, any drug.
I would rather be alone with my blood.

9-22-08


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Sanctuary In Slumber

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