Voices - 5 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I can feel my father touching my face
With his calloused hands but he did not
Wake me up by caressing my face –
He woke me up accidentally, as he coughed.
The cadence is that of a lion’s proud roar
And I was startled – He gave me money
For school which was sufficient to satisfy
My needs but never my poor, marred soul.
How are you?
Usually when people ask me how I am,
I quickly resolve to a lightning nod of approval.
And so I did, and they were convinced,
And I was convinced with my lie.

You’ll be okay.
I am tired of these inflated honesties.
I need someone to tell me,
That I am wretched
And a loathsome, lost boy
Tell me darling,
That I’m going to die today.
When I contemplate about things alone,
I feel very much worse.

I grabbed the medicine box,
And stared at the tablet,
And it was as insidious as the scent
Of your first cigarette, first sex
First kiss, first beer, first everything.
I took the drug, clandestinely
And I felt absolute.
The drug was as potent as my lies
Towards sedation.
I felt real.
I felt genuine.
Maybe this is how life works.
You can’t feel absolute
Infinite
Genuine
On your own.
You need someone.
You need something
To make you feel alive.
In the contrary,
There’s a certain someone,
A particular something
That renders you
Finite
Dead
Vulnerable
Destroyed
Anguished.