Page 82 of Glass (Crank 2)

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So why didn’t they lash

out at me, bombard me

with

questions, search my stuff,

smell my breath, something?

Do they just not want

to know for sure, stress

themselves with such

wisdom?

Or have they, perhaps,

simply given up

on me?

That Feeling

Of wanting to sleep,

desperately needing sleep,

fighting the monster for sleep,

reminds me of one reason

I have been happy to leave

the meth in Hunter’s wake.

Though it’s calling to me,

Just one more little toot,

I simply will not give in.

I will keep the monster in

check. I am stronger

than any addiction. Right?

Somewhere, a telephone

rings. I swim up into gray

afternoon, the inside of

my head thick as chowder,

tug myself from bed,

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