i sound like a fucking broken record
an old, plain black vinyl album spinning endlessly on the turntable of hope
but the needle is stuck on a groove and skips all the way to doom
it’s time to face the music
i think he might be deaf in one ear
slumber, distance, and will are my arch enemies
partnering with my nemesis as he tugs on his long, pencil thin, dastardly moustache
twirling it between his thumb and forefinger
peering right through me with vacant, squinted eyes
proclaiming 'this town aint big enough for the both of us'!
standoff under a lugubrious sun
as i reach in my holster for my gumption, i pull out sacrifice and point it at him
the silence is a cacophonous assault
he looks me dead in the eye and takes his shot
he puts me out of my misery
gratitude
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