Back To The Asylum Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Here,
With trickles of rain
Blood and fractured hope
I am back, as the fulminating moon
Serenades the night with a bloom -
I am back to the asylum.

What more in this crazed soiree?
I’ve not all time to count the redundancy
Of the clocks, and the days.
If I continue to write, dear fellow
I’d lose my sanity.
Here, let me scar for a while,
Only to eviscerate later.
Here, perhaps, mending is erstwhile,
We shall die at the latter.

I am back to the asylum,
Where the shadows make more room
For the filth of nostalgia.
I’ve not anyone here in this elbow trance,
Only lost figures, austere photographs and
Spiteful romance - and so, here
Inside the asylum, I have lived
And perhaps revel in my timely death.