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I woke up with my brain running dry of thoughts. A nagging, throbbing pain shackled my forehead; my lips grew bubbling with ropy saliva as I reached my arms upwards in the gray mist of my morning apartment. My fingers, however, clutched nothing but stale air. With a sigh, I groped my hand across the nightstand and hooked a tiny key up closer. In the birth of sunlight behind my windows I watched, squinting, the sparkling gleam of the key; it still appeared new, as though I bought my brain-head module just yesterday and not two years ago. I pushed, my hand shuddering, the key into a keyhole on my left temple and turned it forcefully until it reached a stopper inside. Thoughts deluged my waking brain, relieving me of my gnawing pain, feeding new bright colors to the room around me. As the shop advertised, my clockwork brain should have been working flawlessly for at least two decades; something, however, that I feared the most, returned. Fear, although, wasn’t the rightest of terms for

All is still as dry as tinder; Alas, after the wildfires in our home There is enough tinder that awaits ignition And we are still in this hearth of uncertainty I can breathe more easily But because victory upsets much of the population And I am still nervous at the resentment Of people who feel that they themselves won’t be heard. I won’t pretend that I am a perfect example Of virtue, I am also flawed, but I can’t take any more implacable contention Which he lit who was supposed to be responsible. I won’t pretend that I am a perfect example Of virtue, I am also flawed, but I want to resolve the problem, That we will unite against a worse crisis All seemed to collapse and naked despair And anger almost crushed me. I would not trust. I take little pleasure now, when many people Of this country feel some sort of soreness. Happy and contented people don’t become inflamed; Fear, anger, pain, and disappointment are All behind resentment, and I did not Want to listen and I could offer my