The Ultimate Hiss Of Death. Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Like an infinite brutal knives inexorably stabbing every tangible space of happiness; devastating every single aspect of my existence beyond the threshold of
sagacious repair,

Like infinite maelstroms of inexplicable despair; thwarting even the most infidel of my desire; to die the most excruciatingly gory death within the realms of my wailing soul,

Like an infinite nights of haplessly strangulating nightmares; each of which metamorphosed me into the ghosts of jinxed oblivion; even though I was
jubilantly alive,

Like an infinite thorns of truculently beheading disease; snapping every holistic fang of my existence; with the mortuaries of unparalleled misfortune and invidious blackness,

Like an infinite skeletons of tawdrily cursing nothingness; ghastily rendering every ounce of my poignant blood; to worthlessly debilitating and infinitesimal ash,

Like an infinite oceans of deplorably slandering blood; which intransigently drowned every dimension of my skull; to the acrimoniously unsparing rock bottom,

Like an infinite gallows of deliriously inexplicable depression; which morbidly injected the vials of lecherous helplessness; into each of my veins at a speed more vicious than the most uncontrolled thunderbolts of lightening,

Like an infinite devilish snakes slithering into vindictive wilderness; maiming even the most iridescently robust of my senses; with hedonistically penalizing venom,

Like an infinite ferociously undulating waves; which made me inevitably crumble on my very own feet like a pack of lugubriously impotent matchsticks; without the
tiniest of insinuation or prior warning,

Like infinite atrociously non-existent parasites; which cannibalistically devoured even the last ounce of enthusiasm from my impoverished demeanor; hopelessly discarding me to beg on the irascibly rambunctious roads,

Like an infinite germs of indispensably asphyxiating cancer; which slowly and slowly incarcerated even the most oblivious granule of triumph; in my bountifully celestial body,

Like an infinite murderously silent dungeons of imperiling boredom; stigmatizing each victoriously jostling nerve of mine; with unstoppable whirlpools
of carnivorously delinquent lechery,

Like infinite icicles of lecherously weeping lifelessness; which diabolically froze the very lastounce of virility in my blood; rendering me lividly castrated in the center of the beautifully bustling street,

Like an infinite wails of salaciously massacring meaninglessness; which ripped apart through even the most invisible fabric of my felicity; like an endless desert of maniacal victimization,

Like an infinite footsteps of unforgivably plundering crime; forever robbing every single element of my body; of its stupendously bewitching versatility,

Like an infinite cold-blooded cauldrons of esoteric perversions; subjugating my nimble form; to the coffins of the ominously marauding and sadistically torturous devil,

Like an infinite wails of the impiously strangulating witch; which gruesomely transformed even the most harmoniously spell binding of my fantasy; into the
ultimate apogees of pugnacious mayhem,

Like an infinite unfaithfully barren deserts; which wholesomely evaporated even the most mercurial trace of optimism from the chapters of my priceless life; without the slightest of my fault; reason or ostensible rhyme,

Like an infinite signatures of the horrifically prejudiced demon; which ruthlessly crucified even the most insouciant trace of my masculine identity; with the alphabets of unprecedented devastation,

Was the sorrow lingering deep in the dormitories of my innocent heart and soul; was the sorrow inhabiting every stream of blood that flowed through my veins; was the sorrow unmistakably reflecting from every quarter of my eye; was the sorrow that unabashedly cursed every righteously forward footstep of mine; was the sorrow that converted each of my golden breath into the ultimate hiss of death.