The Calculation Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Sometimes I extricate
Myself from the blankets,
The shards, the vines
And I exhaust myself
Ambling through the marshes
With a weary heart
And two, fickle feet
Of utter superfluity.

At night I hear
The screeching of the bats,
The trampling of the felines
A melee on the rooftops,
The bawling of the canines,
And I see photographs
Of the void,
The still abysses
Such abysmal horror

I just see all of this;
A standing invitation.
My room turns
Cold, embittered
A stench of death
And terror
Inferior to the clocks,
I kneel in front of their
Soliloquized pirouettes.

The death just sits there
Waiting patiently
Subtly seeping through
Fissures, crevasses
Slithering like black waters,
A dislimned evanescence.

Death just sits
There waiting,
Preying, anticipating
Any signs of
Predilection.