Poetry

1. WHEN I SLICED MY HEART
When I sliced volatile wire; impregnated with white currents of electricity,
It spewed out a volley of poignant sparks in tandem; I was stabbed with
several impacts of shock; falling like a lifeless pigeon on the ground.
When I sliced open obdurate tree bark; embossed with a cluster of rustic root,
A slurry of succulent white juice oozed out in emollient abundance;
and the tree wept in hidden anguish.
When I sliced the belly of the colossal mountain; infinite tones of mud leaked out
in frenzy,
A cluster of earthworm and rabbit got dismantled; and the once bombastic structure
now resembled a beggar in torn rags.
When I sliced open the skin of emerald watermelon; rosy pink juice cascaded
down with spontaneity,
The fruit looked ravishingly voluptuous like never before; with scores of brown seeds
tumbling down.
When I sliced decayed bones freshly excavated from soil; a finely crushed
chowder of calcium flew directly in my eyes,
The scenario appeared grotesquely despicable; with nostalgic memories of centuries
ago besieging the cool air.
When I sliced through the heart of a concrete wall; a series of blatant cracks spread
fast like wild fire,
The structure now looked insipid and fragile; a battalion of red baked bricks came
plummeting down; and broke my scalp.
When I sliced scintillating biscuits of yellow gold; an amber tinge incorporated the
edge of my knife,
The currency proliferated itself with each stroke of mine; and soon I had more pieces
of gold than when I commenced slicing.
When I sliced through an ocean of loose sand; the blissful assemblage got thoroughly
distorted,
Bountiful splinters of silver soil hurtled towards my eyes; and there was profuse
tearing that incorrigibly followed as an inevitable aftermath.
When I sliced open a balloon incorporated with salty cheese; and a fountain of water,
An incoherent design of white dots then inhabited my face; scores of flies and cupid
ants stuck like true stalwarts to my demeanor.

2. And when I sliced my heart open with the most sharpest of blade; crimson blood
gushed out at exhilarating speeds,
It contained bold traces of the girl I immensely loved; the celestial image of
the mother from whom I was born.