Author Information
"Catastrophe"
by Jeph Johnson
When you saunter in my wits cease control.
What I want begins to release in my soul
a hybrid panic as the end of night is near
I forbid manic, so I can pretend I might be here
all depressed, instead of far away,
caressed in bed, let down your guard and stay;
stay awhile until I doubt my place.
Betray a smile, or I'm left without your face.
In this life, in this world I am left to dream.
Without a wife, without a girl, it's all catastrophe!
