he was looking at something on the other side
sometimes the dark would bleed through the curtains
and bring an unholy whisper from the man himself

he was looking because it was too quiet
and he didn’t want to listen
he longed for silence
he was terrified of silence

like the fear of scarlet
unblinking eyes
shining in the shadows

between him and himself
he didn’t always know who had the bigger gun
who was calling the shots
who was boss

“it’s just me in here”
he’d say to himself
“you’re **** right.”
himself would reply

himself always swore more than he did
himself had a big ******* mouth

sometimes a little fight would break out
and no one would be happy

“who has time for that anyways”
he’d say to himself
“we ******* don’t”