Affixed (poem)

[Underground_Network]

The night air affixed to my coarse lungs
Pushed the thoughts of dying
From the inner depths of my mind
To the tips of my raw fingers.

The revolver, cold yet smooth,
Pushed against the temple,
One false move and the structure collapses,
One true move and it all comes tumbling down
Besides.

Fractious clouds meander
Through the skyline within the pupil,
The black and the white and the dead
And the light all affixed to one ephemeral structure.
If the tower comes crashing down,
Blame the wind.

The night air affixed to my lungs
Makes me wonder why my fingers ache
To pull the trigger but the cold
Just won't let my fingers tug and pull
And end and blow the structure from its supports,
Collapsing in the temple in a sea of red.

Frozen. Affixed.
In the moment.
The gun should have fired.
But the finger stuck,
Then slipped.
The gun should have fired.
Affixed.