Frustration is that little itch in  the back of your skull that tells you things are wrong. It's like a spider spinning webs of unease in your brain. Its the shake in your hand. The knot in your throat. Frustration is the noose tied to the rafters. The razor blade next to the bath tub. Its a handful of pills and a bottle of Jack. A gun and a single round. Its what keeps you up late at night and makes wish the day would end. A crack in the windshield that starts out unnoticeable and spider-webs till the glass shatters. Like sweating heaving apes the beasts mate and spawn more little monsters ripping and tearing the fabric of thought. Things start to run together. The house of wax catches fire and all things within become a three-dimensional collage. My head splits down the middle to expose the demon within. My hands grow cold and taut. Muscles tense and spasm with ferocity. As one fire is extinguished it ignites another and so on. One after another the sticks are piled on till the fire grows out of control. Frustration is like a mental geyser. Pressure builds below the surface, cracks in the earth form and expand till the surface fails to support the tremendous force. The eruption is as violent as it is sudden and end more sporadically than it began. Frustration is the beast lurking in my heart and he is hungry...