Not the deadliest sting of the venomously dancing scorpion;
perpetually waiting to crawl on naked skin and pierce its hindside
deep down into streams of innocuous scarlet blood,
Not even the menacingly insatiable army of ants; ardently dreaming of
nothing else but triggering a volcano of unbearable redness; as they
stealthily clambered upon the most invisible patches of skin,
Not even the most savagely gleaming knives; who yearned to
sadistically chop anything and everything in vicinity; into a trillion
pieces of livid meaninglessness,
Not even the most despairingly morose dungeons; who wanted to devour
every conceivable source of life in the blooming atmosphere; forever
into a graveyard of demonic blackness,
Not even the most ominously parasitic leeches; who started to
hideously slither as if starved since a thousand centuries; at
sighting the most orphaned droplet of blood splattered on the grave,
Not even the most invidiously smoldering embers of the bonfire; whose
sole mission in life was to burn every trespassing soul to an
unrecognizable death; a most perfect vindication for their dreadfully
miserly state of now,
Not even the most incapacitated of oblivious rusty iron nails; who
knew they could cause many an inexplicably traumatizing disease; apart
from a corpse of woeful blood; once they pugnaciously stung,
Not even the most perilously sinister sheets of sinking mud; who
wretchedly suckled you to the rock bottom of incarcerated darkness;
with an ease as inanimate as a ghost passing unscathed through the
wall,
Not even the most forlornly thwarting silence; a web of preposterously
crucifying loneliness trying its best to trap every life of bustling
energy; only to be eaten by the spiders of hell,
Not even the gullibly hissing snakes; whose singleton kiss of the lips
on pristine life; led to the most irrevocably silencing mortuaries of
death; an agonizing extinction which brutally paralyzed all existence,
Not even the most tyrannical wells of unending sarcasm; which plagued
every creatively brilliant spark that rose from the mind and soul;
with the devil’s altar of jinxed negativity,
Not even the most disdainfully lethal smokescreens of adulteration;
which yearned every unveiling instant to usurp everyone on earth; in
their murderously cancerous swirl,
Not even the most abysmal gorge of hopeless desperation; which
perpetuated every sane entity on the trajectory of the planet; to
become a maniac who asymmetrically plundered for raw flesh and blood,
Not even the most dreadfully conniving satans of hell; who devised
endless insidious ways and means to torture you after you died; and
were sent to their custody in your fecklessly frigid after life,
Not even the most despondently amorphous walls of monotony; which
unsparingly marauded every infinitesimal ounce of newness around with
carcasses of penalizing routine,
Not even the most heartless cauldrons with meat butchered into a
zillion pieces; where the most priceless of emotions were hacked to
the most indescribably torturous death; shockingly alive,
Not even the most ominously wailing streams of blistering lava;
launching an assault of an unimaginably distorted and instant death;
as it fervently prayed for the very first living step to transgress
its way,
Not even most ghoulishly jangling skeletons of nothingness; whose sole
purpose lay in scaring the daylights of optimism from the innermost
realms of your soul; make you one of their own even in the pinnacle of
your robust life,
But if there was anything that could indeed bite a Man till beyond an
infinite of his lives and deaths—Then it was only the infidelity of
the woman whom he’d given his heart; the woman whom he truly loved…
(c)(R)copyright by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.
