Where it Stops

 sitting in the dark long enough, your eyes adjust u
ntil shadows and outlines, the edges of things, be
come tangible. hard as metal, cold as ice. a body f
rozen in a lake. this is the edge of things. a photo
graph in gray. a sigh. a pen drawing circles until t
he page rips. ink bleeding through everything. an
abyss. abysmal. looking at a reflection, seeing thro
ugh it instead. hollow still has a shell at least. this
is the edge of things, where it stops. it stops…….

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