Flashback: February 11, 2000

bleak, 
    bleak, 
       it is a bleak day
and i am tired

my words used to weigh 
   millions of tons of 
warm blood, 
   genuine tear 
      sincere sweat, once
now 
  i 
  am
  too
  sick and tired
of my own sarcasm

and, and, and,
i saw my people happy, with their 
wives, 
   husbands, 
      signi-fucking-ficant-others, 
         children, 
            and their nine-to-five regular jobs

everything i've dreaded to have

happy
  bruised here and there,
    broken a little,
      tarnished a bit,
but genuinely happy

which forces me to believe
may be it was bread-and-butter
i should have worried about
  not `why's 
  or `how's 
  `meaning's or `truth's 
all the useless junk i wasted my cheap words on

may be all was the surface and
  superficial was the deepest i could get

i am sad that
i have grown to be an hollow shell
  a shell cracking under its own weight
because, i've lost my faith in 
  the trancendent, 
  the beautiful and 
  the just;
for thy kingdom has never come
thy will came un-done