Nowhere Going Poem by Chris Tiganescu

It goes nowhere. This friendship
is farthest from fantastic. A closer
possibility is that of the loaded
bullet. If it only be that easy.
Could I find an after life to enjoy?
The heaven I crave is one fair
haired beauty. This shadow has
converged on me it pulls me down.
The thrust of its rage is my pain.
It is a low awakening far to warm
to cool my skin. How Is it that a
life  is present when the only one
to wield it is a zombie of what he
once was. A slave to the thought
of dissapearence. Tonight its all
gone low the pain is breaking
cold. How marvelous that in my
pain I remain comfortable. In a
sense I am where I belong. The
pain my shelter, my housing.
How peculiar that even now I trudge
along without a worry. Be it a
life a no longer desire. Better it be
gone to the black then trudging
a shattered organ through the
shadow.