Life = Death - Volume 2 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

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30. A DEATH MORE HORRIFIC THAN WHAT DEATH COULD EVER BE 

 

I didn’t know whether to plunge into the well of treacherously vindictive scorpions; or whether to hang myself insanely upside down from the cadaverously gleaming gallows,

 

I didn’t know whether to chop my skull into an infinite fragments with the merciless butcher knife; or whether to let every conceivable parasite on this boundless planet to uninhibitedly suck blood from my derogatorily diminishing veins,

 

I didn’t know whether to stand bare-chested in the way of the unrelentingly unsparing avalanches; or whether to lecherously drown to the rock bottom of the deep ocean; with an unsurpassable battalion of sinister crabs in my mouth,

 

I didn’t know whether to torch my skin alive in a gutter of insidiously adulterated kerosene; or whether to ruthlessly excoriate every iota of my nimble skin; from the top of my brutally emaciated bones,

 

I didn’t know whether to lethally gouge my eyes with ghoulishly blood coated thorns; or whether to shatter my entire countenance into a countless fragments; sadistically banging my body against the venomously cold-blooded rocks,

 

I didn’t know whether to bury myself alive infinite feet beneath sinking soil; or whether to surrender myself to every construable bit of disparagingly convoluted badness; on the trajectory of this gigantic planet,

 

I didn’t know whether to indefatigably sip vials of hedonistically ghastly poison; or whether to get gored full throttle; by the acrimoniously piercing thorns of the savagely marauding bull,

 

I didn’t know whether to barbarously slash the trembling veins of my palm with perfidiously criminal blades; or whether to make a ludicrously grotesque barbecue of myself for the unscrupulously wandering termites,

 

I didn’t know whether to lividly wither like a despondently crackled leaf; or whether to leap naked fleshed from the pinnacle of the sky; to crunch my every bone with stray pebbles and rocks on earth beneath,

 

I didn’t know whether to let the demons crucify me on the sacrificing altar torturously sucking every speck of my exuberance under the acridly sweltering Sun; or whether to raunchily take every pistol bullet that hurtled pugnaciously in serene air; right in the center of my head,

 

I didn’t know whether to timelessly incarcerate every cursed breath of mine in chains of isolation; or whether to tirelessly march through a graveyard of sickness; where the ghosts of disease made every instant of my life more crippling than an infinite deaths,

 

I didn’t know whether to lasciviously slit every patch of robustness in my throat with the satanic garden shears; or whether to truculently blast even the most inconspicuous element of sensitivity in my ears with perniciously ribald bombs,

 

I didn’t know whether to indiscriminately inundate every pore of my slavering body with unfathomably unforgivable bitterness; or whether to greedily slurp asphyxiating acid down my throat in incomprehensibly luxurious amounts,

 

I didn’t know whether to forever disappear into the corridors of bawdily nonchalant nothingness; or whether to continuously lick victimizingly threadbare dirt on the lavatory broomstick; like an irascible cockroach all my life,

 

I didn’t know whether to become a live carrion for the egregiously cannibalistic vultures; or whether to surprisingly come in front of a speeding truck; being massacred to a gory absolution without the slightest intimation or respite,

 

I didn’t know whether to limitlessly hurt myself like an uncontrollably prurient imbecile; or whether to jinx myself with the most uxoriously tyrannical spirits of fretfully decimating doom,

 

I didn’t know whether to baselessly howl the last chord of my throat till the threshold of infinite infinity; or whether to perch my diminutive form upon the belligerently flaming pyre; for an irrefutable isolation from the vagaries of this manipulatively

prejudiced planet,

 

I didn’t know whether to eat ominously bellicose cyanide for dessert; or whether to forever snap my inconsequential reflection from the periphery of this fathomless earth; devastatingly fading into a corpse of lunatic darkness,

 

Her loss was so profoundly unbearable that I really didn’t know how to die; Her untimely departure was the most irreversible defeat that I had faced in the chapter of my truncated life,

 

And therefore; all that I intransigently sought for today; was a death more ghastlier than the most horrific of death could ever dream of or could ever be; such a penalizingly lambasting corner in the coffins of diabolical hell; where the absence of her divinely sacrosanct form would never ever make me cry again.