31. NOODLES
When i caressed barren regions of my flesh with furry noodles of wool,
nimble hair stuck to skin stood up in animation,
as i broke into volleys of irresistible laughter.
as i kneaded long noodles of raw paper pulp,
there was a conglomerate of reddish white wax formed,
and a heavenly fragrance of garnished paper tickled moistened hair in my nostril.
when i gulped compact noodles of gelatin capsule,
the magical powder spread parasitically through infinite veins,
rendering me with bleak rays of hope, as i relinquished gruesome pain.
when i swung vociferously on noodles of thickly knotted thread,
poignant missiles of air colliding with my body through the interstitched holes,
there were languid feelings enveloping bountiful layers of my persona,
prompting me to shut my eyes tightly and sleep.
as i smeared supple regions of skin with unsymmetrical noodles of virgin clay,
washed my body in the holy waters of Ganges,
the natural antiseptic displayed spectacular aftermaths,
transforming morbid exteriors of my demeanor into a brilliant sparkling
white.
when i consumed spongy noodles blended with bulky extracts of spice,
drank gallons of golden beer causing them to drown,
i fell down with indispensable thuds on the king poster bed,
envisaging tall mountains with silver peaks, in my everlasting slumber.
when i felt agonizing noodles of her precious tears dribble down my neck,
i wiped them thoroughly with my tender lips,
obliterated her from blasphemous sectors of the world,
reinforcing her eyes with the passionate tenacity of my love.