A Turbulence Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

There is a monsoon, that hurls like daggers upon bodies
In my heart; restless, agitated like children in a warfare
With thoughts swarming like carrions, a whole lambaste of emotions
In the vineyard, unwanted, like an encroaching pestilence

I am benumbed, in a guillotine of razor sharp judgment
Of the moon that cannot assuage the clamors of the fallen
The creature that festers inside my heart, like wildfire
The chambers, muffling the hoarse cry of the monstrosity

Gnawing my veins, plaguing my mind, scarring wounds
With such contagious disease undisputed,
By potent substances snared by desires,
To inebriate the mind, towards oblivion, a drunken state

Eyes like sentinels stand in the forests,
The lush greens that fade in the presence
Of the ensnared neglected young terrain,
Sleeping in a deathly silence.

The incubus then swallows the clouds,
Leaving the skyline barren, the crestfallen azure
Wrapped in a veneer waxing over the faces of the cliffs,
Past the obscurity of the voices trapped within the fissures

The beast emerges, surfacing the depths of the cliffs
With debris falling on its skin, as if studding it with such indolent piety
Hovering harbinger of saints tossed to the darkest pits,
With wings golden like snow, snow of impotent chill.

The creature still gallivants, exuberant with a spirit of nonchalance,
Injustices in scales of unbalanced prejudice among thieves and juries
With eyes buried under thick mist, deprived from their duties as sentries,
This beast, it is one with its host, preying easily, preying effortlessly.