Breathing Room Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I meander about
The steady paces of my morose room,
In wavelengths, with the fetid stench
Of yesterday’s stained eyes and sullied mirth –
Genuflected on the linoleum-sprawled floors,
Beamed my head to the direction
Of faith suspended in time, by the bend
There is an ensuing euphoria – but still,
Hints of malaise can be found in these eyes,
And the remains of the cataclysm unsheathes
The wounds, thus to prepare myself for healing
Whatever the somber darkness looms,
I have it in me to spare some breathing room.