Blocked Nose

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 16, 2018

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Submitted: March 16, 2018

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Ordinarily I would have heard the sound humming several kilometers away; with my lobes flapping lazily in temperate cocoons of air,
But today I snored thunderously expending my lungs to the most unprecedented capacity; even when a battalion of savage panthers roared menacingly into my ears.

Ordinarily I would have smelt food even when in the heart of deep sleep; insatiably drawn towards it like bolts of white lightening plummeting down from the sky,
But today I presumed it to be slabs of ghoulish stone; infinite daggers ready to permeate my skin; as I trespassed past it with tears of exasperation flooding my eyes.

Ordinarily I would have forgiven hordes of pertinent children fiddling around me; entirely overlooking their flurry of innocuously mischievous gestures; as they naughtily plucked my hair,
But today I ran with a broomstick in my hands; shooing them away to the most fathomless limits as they cast the most evanescent of shadow into my sacred
territory.

Ordinarily I would have waited for times immemorial to hear the voice of the nightingale; blissfully inhaling mountainfulls of mesmerizing air into the voluptuous
jacket of my lungs,
But today I beat my fists left; right and center; almost fractured my palms into countless pieces; waiting in frantic desperation for the bird to arrive.

Ordinarily I would have drifted into a land of insurmountably tantalizing fantasy as I philandered freely in a garden of seductive roses; nimbly caressing the ravishing festoon of crimson petals,
But today I ruthlessly ripped the shrub from its tiniest of root; stashed it uncouthly into the realms of the dilapidated dustbin; for making me deafeningly sneeze.

Ordinarily I would have profoundly engrossed myself into the beauty of the brilliantly dazzling Sun; relentlessly admiring the infinite myriad of its sweltering beams; which magnificently sizzled the gloomy planet,
But today I ran maniacally into the cloistered room; miserably shoved my head under the flimsy blanket; encapsulated my entire caricature with straw; from the most inconspicuous rays of the outside world.

Ordinarily I would have taken inexorably meticulous care in sorting out the coat of grey; scattered frugally on the trajectory of my leaning scalp,
But today I made myself gruesomely bald; tearing apart the exotic follicles in a single stretch like an insane lunatic; slithering in the corridors of hopeless captivity.


Ordinarily I would have obediently followed each of my boss's commands; stooping humbly in front of his domineering demeanor; enticing him in giving me a robust increment,
But today I kicked him satanically in his backside for not catering to my needs; hurtled the colossal sheaf of papers right into the white's of his eye; along with the stale cup of coffee he stingily fed me for refreshment.

Ordinarily I would have desired that life continued till times unsurpassable; with each minute unveiling into blissful shades of tranquilly placid existence,
But today I wanted to sky rocket to my last day of survival; completely disappear for eternity into traces of cold air; rather than blowing my nose raw; expelling a slurry of alien matter in astronomical tons by the unfurling second; bearing inevitably
with the tyranny of a blocked nose.


© Copyright 2018 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.