The thought of it horrifies me,
Even more so than what death entails,
It forces me to sporadically awaken.

I visualize myself taken away to a cold grotto,
Where I'm violated by strangers
And alienated, rather than uplifted,
For an unknown duration of time

I knew what might happen,
The consuming fervor,
My behavior will not be understood

Haven't I alienated myself all along?
Was it not I who voluntarily auditioned
For the infamous role of the outcast
As well as the acclaimed role of the golden child?
The critics may write their reviews of my performances

My petite hands peruse
Through the drawer's treasure,
The prescription pill bottle is
Considered as a future reference.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

8/2/14