Shortlived Heartbroke bone

I leave my building and walk down the street, a sightless thinker wondering if he'll see what it is he'll bump into when he does. I walk with a stone in my stomach. You bite into it from time to time like an apple and then you spit it out, wondering again why it still tastes like a damn rock. I am sloped, and slide through town surely enough but uneasily, like quarters sliding off a sheet of paper that splash onto the floor, which you pick up and try to offer me and look confused when I say 'those aren't mine no way.'

I walk past a homeless man who raises an eyebrow at me, and my thoughts spill down my pant legs and into my shoes and overflow onto the sidewalk and I am convinced that this is not real, I am convinced. I laugh, amazed that your elephantine hands still pull at the street corners of my reality. And then I stop laughing and as the smile wears off I say 'you fucking stop it right now,' and you do and I stare at you, unconvinced.

As I walk through my thoughts the bricks blur in and out of focus, and I chew at the skin on my lip and look around, still sightless. I get a drink from the drink machine at the barbershop and leave the change. As I slink back to my building the stone in my stomach rocks back and forth, making sounds like upstairs neighbors, and my feet hit the pavement flippantly.

Down towards the viaduct a flock expands up into the air, and I look up at the sky and decide for once to just stop not flying.