Tired

In our small, tired world, there's too little space for anything. And then we cram in terrorism, recession, traffic jams, politicians, elections, pink slips, pink chaddis, accidents, climate change, crop failure, ... (courtsey: Taaq)

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One small glimpse, one beautiful smile , is all we need

In our tired tired world

Or so they said, and i had believed..

We talk fancy shit, think brutally fanciful, agony is pleasure, shallow fun

We feed on misery, on life, like parasites, undying quest for desolation?

Does everything have to be perfect? cliched rhetoric?

moving in spiral circles of ubiquitous despair,

Is that living? or just hanging there, to be strangled and suffocated

by the life you had been feeding on, like parasites

We are animals, retarded animals we are. On second thoughts arnt we?

dissecting, analysing retards

Wheres the fun? wheres the beauty? wheres life.?

in our tired tired world..

One small glimpse

should be good enough, to wipe all misery, all dirt, all hurt.

One beautiful smile, to erase the past, to vanquish the present, to surrender.

simple enough ? or so i thought..

But then, we brutally murdered simplicity, didnt we? butchered it long time ago

such dissecting, analysing retards we are.

Retarded arrogant butchers. On second thoughts, arent we?

in our tired tired world

Ran short of complications? needed more pain, more misery, more retardedness?

in our tired tired world

A tired man, i have become, they say

in my own small tired tired world.

Too tired waiting for that small glimpse, for that smile

that was to vanquish the present, erase the past. Instead it slapped

why? i used to wonder. But then 'used to', I said

No more. Tired souls dont think, not the slightest hint of it.

I tried, didnt I ? I did. I did and failed, not once but twice and thrice

seems like a zillion times, each miserable

a tired man, I look, they say, or so I heard

tired

i am