Scathed Child: I Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The silken bus seats
Are intimately occupied
By people who are
Tethered to each other.
Their lull echoes billow
Past the compartments.

The malls are gorged
With randy people
Who are perniciously
Meandering around the desolate
Establishments, their dreams
Moored to each twining hand,
Interlaced fingers and morose
lights.

The hospitals are taken
By hostile conditions:
Death lurked around the corner
And sometimes I feign
To participate in the aesthetics
Of giving life to a comrade
Vying for life
But they never participated
In giving me one, substantial
Thrust to the heart.

They were no good to me.