the tunnel


pain rains
on me
like sleet
shaken off
the grey clouds
by a bored god
in his steps
a punishment that
comes to me
for being a murderer
of silence,
the rows
of bartenders
pleading them
to help me set up
a light
at the end of
the dark tunnel
of time
a beacon
so the alienated crowd
could finally
stop the frenzy
when they
it’s only a tunnel
and nothingness
at the end.


                          contemporary poetry