The dust settles and my mind doesn’t. On edge and on the edge of disaster my body pumps adrenaline. Blinking eyes, beating heart awake and aware. Traces of nothing cut through the corners of my parallel vision. The sounds at night from far away sound like the rumblings of rockets and I’m ready to react. The clicks of the doors down the hall tell my sleepy mind to be ready for that person causing harm to come to my room so I need to fight. The shadows and blankets, the creaking of the old floor make the dazed fear in my mind so much more alive. I sleep and dream of destruction, of devastation. The creases in my brain and neurological paths are where my scars hide. Where the memories last and the feelings are alive. There is so much emphasis on the soul but I can’t pinpoint mine. I think it’s somewhere in my youth before I realized what the world was like. I hope I didn’t do this to myself, I hope it’s not just me and my infinite egocentric parade. Where the floats are all dark on a dismal dreary day. When the children cry when the clowns all have frowns, and cotton candy tastes of gunpowdery sand. All the rides are deadly. No one ever wins prizes. The only thing we can count on is our fear, and it is nothing anymore.