bruiserboy

I came up for air, a moment of clarity, there was nothing left to breathe. We exist apart from the world, ageless, as we are. I drown my isolation in a citadel of dreams, where I am so far away from where I sit and type. The dice roll, ivory, clinking like the broken glass of shattered marbles. The brown iris of a discarded moppet. Once before, I held everything I desired in my hands, and I let the pupils of other people reveal the cracks before I ever saw them. My fingers cut themselves, scrambling to reclaim, repair the fractured lens, and I awoke on a southbound bus, as it passed her turnoff on I-95.