THE INFECTION IS SPREADING

Thinning diaphanous patience with Increasing fixation to alter irremediable truths of the retroperitoneal  void; the black organic hole of misery that sucks-like a raven black laden reaper-from happy rooms of more fortunate men the life force that keeps them smiling

No soul alone can escape the great magnetic pull of this pessimistic human vacuum
for despondency is a contagion without comfort or cure and the infection is spreading

T     H     E                                I  N   F   E   C   T   I   O   N

I     S                                       S  P   R   E   A   D   I   N   G       

I Can Feel Him Clawing Away In There

"We're almost there", says Wally from the farther corner of myself which too few have known
and what does he, this Pessimistic Prince mean when he tells me this?

Well, I think I have always know I wouldn't live passed a certain age, but the real question--the one which keeps me up most nights--is what do I mean by I?

And when will he, my dreadful darling, return to the wheel and live?

--Preston

Self-Control

Razor nails of digits clenching sweaty palms
quivering knees plant my frame at still posture
with water fall b.p. on the rise and trembling jaw
beneath a dome of hazy sight by twitching lids

Dual whisper evil cricket voices
voicing theirs and my desire to finally act
I just need a cold shower...

--Preston