Seven Carnal Deaths Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

My soul, a squalid vesper
Kissing the ravine as dark as charcoal
To silence me, hush little hurried child
Contemplate on how to die nobly.

The nobility is poor and unsound,
In the time of sepulchral anatomy and peccadilloes
More than just a reservoir of faults and woes,
I am another plane of existing, breathing trespassed thoughts.

Triple-threat in a submission,
Crippled and maimed, as if in a battle
Of conscience and ethics, blinding mysticism
Upon the tyranny of decisiveness in a cobwebbed tree

Disillusioned upon arching mirrors,
I pulled the illusion, and tethered it to my aching skin
I can hear voices, ambulating across the dismal room
Staggering like tranquilized beasts ready for foreplay.

How to die, how to write demise
In an illicit language deferred in the atmospheric profanity
Of a skydome with ravens, crows, abyss, anything black
So as to inspire what lies behind the wraith with an obelisk in his temple.

There's a skin tone, pale as cemetery beds
And a chest that is as morbid as a morgue
Have you figured out how you want to die?
At the early age where lullabies are static across auditory shrines

The kiss of lust,
The ignorance of sloth
Coveted by the most avaricious of gargantuan moths
In a dungeon of abysmal literature.

The theatrical premise of pride,
And the flare of anger,
Pull it all together,
To create a plane of somber

The blight of envy,
Summons the name of enmity
Unbutton your skin,
Like the gluttonous kin.

With the lust that seethes from within,
Deserves a fornication of the skin,
With rusting blades and chainsaw castration
You are never safe from violence.

And for envy, whose eyes survey
With such discontent among the appraisal of men and women
Removed from sockets with sharp pincers
And replacing eyes with gems so as to glint with sorrow.

The sloth, enervated by the nothingness in will,
Place rioting horses with bewildered hearts
Upon each limb to sever each part
Leaving the sloth worthy of his uselessness.

What stellar persona glints with pride,
That suffocates the humility of a timid siren
Such flaw deserves to be submerged in a cesspool,
To ridicule her forever of her untoward vision.

Avaricious, a holocaust upon frail bodies
Have you garnered so much you have forgotten about the others?
If we put everything in surfeit amounts of agony,
Would you still covet, as if lamenting what merriment you cannot have?

The fire that incinerates fiendishly
Must be submerged in a water of glacial blades
If a fire cannot be contained, it would stretch among the ilk of purification
Now marvel upon your frame soused in a weakening blizzard.

There's an arachnia waiting there,
In silence, in virtue, patiently, subtly
With its spinerette pointed towards your motionless body,
Cobwebbed you are, ready to be devoured.