Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

my life without you

My life without you; was like the resplendently exotic
rose left disdainfully estranged; amidst an
acrimonious battalion of ballistically pugnacious
My life without you; was like the brilliantly vibrant
eye left penuriously staggering; amidst a venomous
graveyard of invidiously sinister darkness,
My life without you; was like the astoundingly
aristocratic Sun left miserably sulking; behind a
treacherously penalizing coffin of shaggily disheveled
and adulterated clouds,
My life without you; was like the regally bountiful
pearls left inexorably fretting; in the sordidly gory
interiors of the raunchily fetid gutter pipe,
My life without you; was like the exuberantly
triumphant bird left hopelessly wailing; behind the
diabolically victimizing and satanically gleaming
prison bars,
My life without you; was like the pinnacle of the
unassailable mountain left dreadfully defeated; under
a frigidly threadbare avalanche of feckless ice,
My life without you; was like the patriotically
blazing warrior left relentlessly cursing his luck;
amidst the manipulatively parasitic politicians,
My life without you; was like the euphorically
victorious ocean left to lugubriously slaver; amidst
the dastardly cockroaches of the diminutively soiled
lavatory seat,

My life without you; was like the fantastically
eclectic artist left to unstoppably asphyxiate;
obnoxiously imprisoned within the walls of the
monotonously matchbox shaped and wastrel office,
My life without you; was like the newly embellished
bride left hysterically sobbing; amidst insurmountably
punitive layers of cadaverously widowed white,

My life without you; was like the blissfully wedded
couple left to enjoy their iridescent honeymoon;
amidst the rambunctiously dusty and discordantly
begging streets,

My life without you; was like the intrepidly young man
left to miserably deteriorate; amidst heavy numbered
glasses; forlorn crutches and a bedraggled walking
My life without you; was like timelessly ticking clock
left to vindictively weep; amidst the infinitesimally
worthless dwelling of the invisible ghosts,
My life without you; was like the exquisitely redolent
and feather tipped pen left to become delirious;
amidst the mordantly corrugated periphery of the
jaggedly cold-hearted rocks,
My life without you; was like the unflinchingly
handsome panther left to disparagingly growl; amidst
lackluster blades of nimbly vegetarian and teasingly
evanescent grass,
My life without you; was like the unfathomably
mellifluous nightingale left to bang its beak; amidst
the brutally stuttering horde of the hedonistically
stone deaf,
My life without you; was like irrefutably
scintillating truth and humanity left to march; in the
land of the ignominiously scurrilous and baselessly
devilish hell,
My life without you; was like rhapsodically insatiable
breath left to perniciously wither; under the hood of
the dolorously damned and strangulating coffin of
And my life without you O! Eternal beloved; was like
the passionately immortal heart heartlessly left;
amidst the sadistically unsavory scorpions of severely
jinxed betrayal. 

Submitted: Friday, August 15, 2014

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