Psally Psychosis
Psparkles Psychosis (part I)
There was something about me he didn’t like. Well, I didn’t like anything at all about him. Of that I was certain. Those kind of eyes I don’t trust. The kind that dart away- scattersome… like roaches when the curtain lifts. Those make-me-nervous type eyes, those were the sort he had. Shifty-like. Unfond of meeting other eyes. Once self-certain, a hopeful young doctor, now a shell. Opaquely occluded with ghosts, for most of which, his mourning was vicarious. Once in a while shaken from his own ruminations, he actually listened, and heard the unfortunate lives most of his patients endured. Years of this emotional spew had deadened his interest wholly.
