Unsparing Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Sitting in a crowded
Place
Trying to seal the
Chasms
And efface the
Phantasms -
Bliss is a closed
Avenue
With prickly, baleful
Alleys.
The bridges burn
Slowly into
Nothing,
The trees rustle in
A randy
Until they are silenced
In a petrification.
Even the lulled matters
Are involved in this
Thievery.
Even the reticent fellows
Are castigated and
Sculpted into effigies.

No one ever makes it out
With a whole heart or
An unscathed soul.