Monday To Sunday

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

Submitted: May 22, 2018

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Submitted: May 22, 2018

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The joints in my body ached and groaned; my head pulsated like a volcano about to fulminate,
The shrill ringing of the alarm clock had disrupted all signs of blissful sleep; caused an uncanny panic to circulate through my veins,
As I stretched my shoulders disdainfully; took the acrimonious rays of the Sun  directly in my eyes; tread my feet nonchalantly on the ground to get ready for
the office on MONDAY.

The lids of my eye felt as if they would inevitably shut; the skin encompassing my ankles looked bruised and swollen,
The chords of my heart were throbbing turbulently; every draught of breath cascaded down my nostrils agonizingly,
As I got dressed at the brink of the hour; to drop the kids to school;  present my spurious smiles to the outside world on the TUESDAY.

The strands of my hair appeared ruffled; an incongruous stubble extruded from
my cheeks,
The exteriors of my lips were mercilessly chapped; pangs of hunger leapt animatedly in my stomach as an aftermath of indigestion,
As I kissed my wife disparagingly on her cheek; made a beeline for the conference; with my socks worn upside down; on the WEDNESDAY.

The armpits in my body emanated a horrendous stench; earth shattering dreams
resonated vibrantly through my mind,
My body tossed and turned wildly before awakening; the rings engulfing my neck
had transited into an ungainly black,
As I feverishly brushed my teeth with brackish toothpaste sped to the airport
in my silver Mercedes, and my tie nearly strangulating my breath on the THURSDAY.

The nerves in my ears had become numb to sound; people in vicinity struck my
eyes as an obfuscated blur,
The stairs I descended down seemed like colossal mountains; deafening sneezes
occurring sporadically made me feel inherently weak,
As I sat down like a bombastic demon; pale smoke of the cigarette wafting from
my mouth striking my adversary; in the breakfast meeting on the FRIDAY.

The rays of hope were silently stirring in my soul; tinges of exuberance seemed to be taking partial control of my speech,
The images of surreal fantasy were painstakingly enveloping my mind; an insatiable nervousness was boisterously bursting through my knuckles,
As nostalgic memories of my family profoundly lingered in my heart; and the
plane prepared to caress the tarmac of my country on the SATURDAY.
 

The hour of my freedom had eventually arrived; the ticking of the clock miserably floundered to make the slightest of impact on my thunderous snores,
The beams of dawn had never seemed so pleasant before; the voice of my wife had never seemed so enchanting,
As I got up languidly from my sleep; executed a yawn larger than my dwelling;
embraced my children; my new found freedom; ebulliently on the SUNDAY.


© Copyright 2018 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.