Without my beloved
Every wall of this house stabbed me like a million
scorpions; venomously crippling each fountain of my
exquisitely bountiful thought,
Every stair of this house made me stagger like a
boundless matchsticks; uncouthly pulverizing me at
every step; for ostensibly no fault of mine,
Every nail of this house pierced me brutally like the
corridors of hell; unrelentingly permeating deeper and
deeper into my satiny flesh; playing a sadistically
gory game with my disastrously wailing nerves,
Every space of this house devilishly stared at me for
times immemorial; savagely lambasting every cranny of
my drearily wasting persona; with remorsefully satanic
morbidity,
Every picture of this house thrashed me unsparingly
like a salaciously ghoulish ghost; vindictively
scaring even the most infinitesimal wisps of daylight;
from every bone of my shivering countenance,
Every web of this house gruesomely diseased me;
lethally incarcerating even the most blissful of my
energies; in a corpse of forlorn oblivion and
nothingness,
Every window of this house abhorrently spewed shards
of vengeful glass into my eyes; profusely staining
even the most inconspicuous element of my persona;
with unfathomable oceans of savage blood,
Every mirror of this house reflected a billion witches
to me; ghastily inundating my impeccable soul with
the; traumatically tyrannized cry of the insidious
devil,
Every dust particle of this house lecherously tainted
my visage forever; ominously drowning each speck of
benign goodness embedded in my conscience; in the sea
of coldblooded murder,
Every droplet of water in this house demonically
blinded my eyes; metamorphosed me into a pool of
sardonically fulminating acid; the very instant that I
consumed even a fraction of it,
Every dungeon of this house barbarically imprisoned me
for countless more births to unveil; murderously
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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