soon after you stopped filling me up
i stopped looking for answers,
and preferred to explore the corners
of our little abyss.
excavating words out of the black ether
filling holes in the arguments
patching up any loose cannons
rendering the arsenal ironclad
at the bottom of this,
our blackhole.
where i sit in some parallel universe
with no light
no shadows
pistols loaded, drawn, and cocked.
ready to shoot at any noise that startles me-
like some blind sheriff
in a ghost town
shooting at the wind and the crackle passing
of one lone tumbleweed.
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