You Get Lonely At Times That It Makes So Much Sense Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

</>At times,
When the Sun is frail with tangerine poise,
There is such loneliness that it almost
Makes so much sense,
As if you are betrothed to the arms of the clocks
That flee from the squanders of time;
The squalid hours of nothingness,
Sometimes make love to my scrawny body
That lacks the virile statuesque stance;
Then the mockingjays hover over the horizon,
With crooked wings that flail endlessly during the morning,
And at night, these mockingjays return as
Bats that bawl screeching horrors that reverberate
Across the stationary bodies of the lifeless streetlamps;
There is such loneliness that makes sense,
For in these hours of ennui,
Minutes of desolation,
And seconds of demise,
There is a fire that never goes out –
That smolders the fragments of the soul,
Galvanizes them to feel
Wholly, intact and alive again.