38. PIPES
Fleshy pipes of my legs carried me long distance,
made sure i was triumphant in every race of life.
wooden pipes filled with sedative tobacco caused me drown in aroma,
ensured that i floated in paradise, a few hours after consumption.
steel pipes of the pistol made me feel like an uncrowned king,
blessed me with loads of comfort and unprecedented power.
twin pipes of my nose facilitated me to take in air,
breathe in a celestial bliss for the time till i lived.
knotted pipes of my palm fingers gave me versatility to write,
held with earnest solidarity steaming mugs of milk for me to drink.
infinite pipes of hair descended down my scalp,
cushioning my skull from brutal blows of metal and wind.
a crimson pink pipe of tongue extruded from chambers of mouth,
blessing me with the authority to win the world through my speech.
there were pipes of fragile plastic in all rooms of my house,
providing me with bountiful amounts of ground water.
angular pipes of bone protruded from my elbow,
assisting me hold my head down when struck by unfathomable shame.
nostalgic pipes crept haphazardly from throbbing pores of my heart,
oozing incessantly the agony of existence,
the blissful tales of my everlasting love.