They Were Waiting Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

An aperture of the fractured heaven
Was visible from the station in between
Two frozen pillars of pastel –
I was there, witnessing these jaunty people
Bask in merriment whilst I cursed
Nostalgia and their reverberating petrichor-scented
Laughs and vile attempts to save each other.
I am as angered as a lurid beast
In a garishly ornate forests not of love
But of hatred –
They have long taken me, and I was acquiescent
They have siphoned everything to their delight
And the effigies that stood still in their perennially
Wonderful gardens came to life – only to mimic me
And submerge me in a subterfuge of mockery.
They have lambasted the only remaining faintly
Sleeping hope I have inside of me,
And as much as I wanted them to rot in this
Eviscerated hallowed region, I just couldn’t.
And so I bastioned myself –
As I genuflected in front of huddled crows
That wait for me during the twilight,
The scavenging vultures wait for my demise,
Poised to lunge at me any time soon enough.
Death was written all over me
Malaise consumed me,
Diffidence animatedly conjured images of myself
Drunk with an even drunker mirth –
They do not care,
And they will never care.
The crows waited for me,
And the unwearied vultures set their vulterine eyes
Towards me – I feared for my life,
But then – there is nothing to this.
Take me anywhere, I do not care.