The Glasses Are Laughing With Me Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

There is a warfare of
Pyrotechnics in the sky
That heralds the enigmatic
Moon.

As I sit here,
Nonchalant,
And tender with sanguinity
I pour that quiet drink
Over the crazed glass
As it gave little susurrations
Of labile mirth.

They were laughing
With me.
This frenzied
Laughter
This indescribable
Clarity
Of finding the filthiest
Secrets of someone,

The fewer steps
To oblivion,
The saccharine taste
Of victory upon
My lips

These are the moments
Where the glasses
Laugh with me.

Again, I pour
That silent drink
And let it
Scar my vulnerable system.
In these
Times of infinity,
I’ve no rue,
I’ve no hatred,

So the glasses
Have eagerly spared me
This moment of such
Genuine bliss.

Let me keep these
Waves for soon
They will be just
Slight breaths
Of nostalgia.

But still, as this goes on,
As I laugh at those
Who broke my heart,
Who left me,
Who destroyed me,
Who stole all that I have,
And still managed
To pilfer the scantiest
Fragments left in me,

I kneel in front
Of the shadows,
And drink the
Reticent lake of
Bourbon
Upon my glass

That ardently
Laughs
With me.