These Are The Moments We Fight The Strongest Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I remember,
For I am fond of
Reminiscences,

Moseying
In a mutilated pace
As the streets are asleep
Underneath the dark
Sprawling like ivies
Underneath the gray apertures
With my arm
Coiled to a scrawny shoulder
Mouth reeking
Of brandy
And stale cigarettes

I stopped
Retched
Wiped the sultry haze
Off my ineffable state
Of drunkenness

I was drunk with reason
With sense
A stable thread that
Enmeshes me to
The night
The stars
And the clout of the streetlamps.

It is in these times
That we fight the strongest.
During the nights
Where we feel terribly
Alone with the faint
Wind that fans the flame
As it spreads all
Over our flammable bodies
Waiting to explode
Into mirth

But then
We were only scorched
Burnt and smelt of
Dying embers.

It is in these times
That we fight the strongest.
When they have abandoned
Us and incarcerated our dreams
In a cell forged with requiems
And undaunted soliloquy.

I have watched him
Grow his dowry hair
Unleash his poignant lament
As he gnaws the torment
With his sharp paws
He wore the Sun
Upon his neck
What a lion
As I patted his back

These are the nights
The days
The twilights
Where we fight the strongest.

It’s when they’ve left
Us with nothing.