I Am Troilus

You know why my room's so clean?
It's 'cause I spend all my time in it.

Not alone in a house - alone in a cube of flat planes.
Six shining surfaces surrounding silver sightlines.

I live in my head, in my attic, and pretend it's full of fun.
No people, no animals, nothing but my dusty personals locked behind the door.

Books and games, some decades old, adorn crusty boxes,
strewn in loose collections 'cross the creaky floor.

A roll of the dice produces pangs of memory, easy and blue, happy and hard.
But the games ended long ago, and I stopped winning when I was five.

Momma used to say, "If music can drag you up and keep you down,
then don' listen to the bad and the sad."

Daddy used to say, "Son, if a woman can make you live, remember she can kill you too,"
like some Frankenstein mad scientist with their finger on the red button.

But I beat them all to the punch years ago.
I know my own punchline, and that ruins the joke:

Wed Queen Mab and fly, like the green fairy, away forever.