THE DAY I DIDN’T BREATHE The day I didn’t wear clothes; I shivered uncontrollably in the austere breeze of uncouth winter, They day I didn’t eat food; I found myself miserably slithering towards the corridors of precarious starvation, The day I didn’t write poetry; I found my fingers virtually paralyzed; and the blood in my robust veins metamorphosed into a morbidly colorless liquid, The day I didn’t bathe; I felt pools of disdainfully fetid sweat; stab my impeccable visage more than a billion treacherous thorns, The day I didn’t sleep; I felt daggerheads of insurmountably fatigued exasperation; assassinating each iota of my blissfully mental peace, The day I didn’t wink; I felt the romantic youth in me die an obnoxiously famished death; all mischief in the atmosphere pathetically desert me like a piece of dilapidated garbage, The day I didn’t pray; I felt like a diabolical monster; drifting further and further away from the sacrosanct countenance of Omnipotent God, The day I didn’t lie in the lap of my mother; I felt as if the world had come to a brusque end; there wasn’t an iota of humanity prevailing in any quarter of this colossal Universe, The day I didn’t swim; I felt as if the insatiable exuberance in my bones had died a profusely asphyxiated death, The day I didn’t discover; I felt as if my incredulously augmenting fantasy; had ruthlessly blended with ethereally dwindling horizons, The day I didn’t dream; I felt that life was a barbarically monotonous workshop; with each hour of the day relentlessly restricted to the realms of parasitic office, The day I didn’t realize; I felt horrendously pompous and pretentiously inflated; with my conscience whipping me to profusely apologize to the mesmerizing winds outside, The day I didn’t drink water; I felt the tumultuously scorching agony in my throat; compelling me to swoon like withering fish on the ground,