NEW: walking the dream

 

He walked - mile after mile, across broken pavements, through cracked gutters - his sneakers shredded, his feet torn. With his head bent, his hair a blob of curled confusion, the colour of crusted blood - he walked within his own dream, through his own unfocused smile.

A song snatched at the corner of his head, scraped along the inside of his skull. He couldn't remember, but he hummed along anyway, his wide bow lips - bitten and broken, came together as they always had - his saving grace, his finest feature, his enemy within.

He shifted his vision - his eyes wide, focus blurred. The pavement in front of him seemed to go on forever, around the world twice over - maybe. But his day was bare, stripped of anything but the movement of his feet, the song in his head, and the dream.