Dying For The First Time

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


The outlines of vivacious trees seemed to be getting blurred as the minutes unveiled; with their colossal demeanor now appearing as sandwiched matchsticks,

The atmosphere seemed to be getting colder by the instant; although the air surrounding me was at the astronomical peak of sweltering summer,

The cars transgressing in vicinity seemed to be an obfuscated whiz; as if blotches of soft cotton sped forward at thunderous velocities,

The deafening roar of the panther; seemed to be like an inconspicuous squeak; although the beast kept incessantly parading round my persona,

The fingers of my palm felt like squelched jelly; collapsing with a thud on the ground; no matter how intractably I tried to hold them up,

The color of the flamboyantly pugnacious Sun; seemed like a pallid white mushroom lying scattered in oblivion on the ground,

The boundlessly towering mountain ranges in the surrounding; seemed like a weak stone lying nimbly beside my palm,

The ingratiatingly appetizing morsels of food and ravishing water lying before my feet; seemed to be completely bland; like a wriggling worm engulfed with slime,

The artists spell binding painting embodied on scintillating white canvas; seemed like a lame duck floating without a single droplet of water,

The mammoth barrel of heavenly crimson whisky; seemed to be like a diminutive mosquito irascibly bothering me in my ears,

The impeccable white shirt which the farmer was wearing; seemed to be profusely entrenched with diabolically ghastly blood,

The timidly placid waves of the ocean; seemed as if they were satanically caressing the pearly moon,

The infinitesimal bodied ants crawling on the marshy ground; seemed like ghoulishly colossal monsters; making a dash towards my neck,

The glittering heap of accolades that I had won all throughout the tenure of my life; seemed like a baseless piece of stinking shit,
The toes sewn to my indigenously bohemian feet; felt as heavy as  a sac full of stones; intransigently protested to move an inch,

The beats of my violently palpitating heart; seemed to be reducing drastically by the unfurling moment; a stupendously ghastly pale now enveloped my other rubicund chin,

The nostalgic memories of my innocuous childhood; the people whom I most ardently revered all along my life; now deluged my brain with ethereally
fleeting images,

The silken cocoon of clouds hovering in the austerely empty sky; seemed to be at whisker lengths from my nose,

Everything around me appeared hazily obliterated; the most celestial of things seemed to be disastrously plagued; the most passionate of my memories seemed to
be mixing with threadbare mud,

And my breath was just on the verge of relinquishing me forever to blend with the Almighty awaiting my arrival in Heaven; as I take this dismal opportunity to pen down some of my horrendous experiences; before finally dying; before dying for the first time in my life.


Submitted: April 08, 2018

© Copyright 2023 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.

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