Gutterball Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The Earth glowers,
And one’s soul scours
Into the thick bushes of dream pangs
And heart pangs, and loneliness
With its perilous fangs

There’s one corner
In my room where I delight so much,
Where the light eschews hope,
Because hope is such a voyage
That goes hasty, but nowhere

I dig my own grave,
In the time of assault and grace
To hide my squalid face
From the rest of the Sun’s rays
And so I give out a restive grimace

No food for hours,
No sunlight, no moon’s kiss
No water for minutes, no synthetic bliss
Guised safely within the sheaths
I trapped the stars, they barely breathe

One corner of the dim room,
There’s one place where I am barenaked
Where nobody’d laugh at me
Nor point fingers and poke me as if a carcass
Washed up at the side of the sea

There’s quandary but I suffer it gladly,
Where every glass tear is a water fall,
Where I crawl like an infant,
And sleep like a midnight train –
My world is a gutter, I am a gutterball.