Poetry

1. VICTORY WAS FOREVER MINE.
Even the most disastrously crippled states of my persona; had in them
an overwhelming scent of irrefutably sparkling and mesmerizing victory,
Even the most disdainfully beleaguered and despairingly blood shot eyes of
mine; had in them an incorrigible flavor of unconquerably fascinating and
indefatigably everlasting victory,
Even the most horrendously grotesque contours of my lambasted face; had in
them a fathomless rainbow of vivaciously enchanting and spell bindingly blazing
victory,
Even the most disparagingly staggering stride of mine; had in it an unsurpassable
entrenchment of patriotically unshakable and scintillating victory,
Even the most diminutively tyrannized of voices that emanated from my throat; had
in them a bountiful cloud of unbelievably supreme and blistering victory,
Even the most swelteringly unrelenting sweat that poured incessantly from my
armpits; had in it an unfathomable garden of beautifully resplendent and
harmonious victory,
Even the most despicably bleeding and gruesomely disintegrated nerves of mine; had
in them an unsurpassable path of flamboyantly charismatic and ever-pervading
victory,
Even the most treacherously mutilated and severed lips of mine; had in them
a celestial paradise of stupendously smiling and enchanting victory,
Even the most drearily wavering shadows of mine; had in them an Omnipotent
Sun of impregnably gratifying and majestic victory,
Even the most abominably shrunken and whipped teeth of mine; had in them a
tenacious fortress of philanthropically benign and indisputable victory,
Even the most rustically bohemian and sordidly chapped feet of mine; had in
them a flaming inferno of boundless glittering and timeless victory,
Even the most wretchedly torn and wholesomely threadbare pockets of mine;
had in them an unassailable carpet of fabulously silken and priceless victory,
Even the most preposterously shaggy and insanely thrashed hair of mine;
had in them an jubilant castle of euphorically gorgeous and ingratiating

2. victory,
Even the most rickety decaying and pulverized bones of mine; had in them a
perennial cloudburst of blissfully reinvigorating and timeless victory,
Even the most traumatically besieged brain chords of mine; had in them a
perpetual heaven of regally symbiotic and sensuously overpowering victory,
Even the most rambunctiously unruly and debilitating musings of mine; had in
them a ubiquitous sky of unflinchingly uninhibited and gloriously embellished victory,
Even the most timid voices of my severely penalized and wailing conscience; had in
them an immutable cavern of truthfully succeeding and royal victory,
And even the most torturously asphyxiated and acrimoniously beaten of my
dwindling breaths; had in them an Omniscient cosmos of ebulliently Godly and
unparalleled victory,
As wholesomely irrespective of how the murderously conventional society tried to
assassinate each iota of my body; wholesomely irrespective of the unprecedented
anguish that every pore of my countenance had to singularly undergo; wholesomely
irrespective of the curse of ghoulish death that confronted me on every step that I
tread for not adhering to the norms of salacious rigidity,
I knew I would be always triumphant; and victory would always be the Omnipresent
glint of my eyes; the ecstasy of my stride; as I followed none other than the voices of
my passionately throbbing heart; forever and ever and ever .