100th Post. But What The Fuck...

I stared blankly into the screen, and watched BitTorrent's progress bar notch up 0.1% by 0.1%. I've put up a movie for download. So much downloaded, yet so little. Winamp blares music into my ears, as it always does.

Engine's not tuned well,
One mess after another,
Taste of Biryani Lost,
Perfection destroyed,
Tranquillity evaporated.
Buried the hatchet.
Buried, cos' of the hatchet.
Pulverized by a trebuchet.
This poetry is fuckall
Oh, how it appalls...
And all I can say,
Is Balls.

The addiction is the first and last wall of defense.
Insanity and words come some-fuckin-where in between.
This fortified wall of defense is now one really thin line. Hair breadth probably.
I wanna close my eyes to this inferno, one without visible flames, yet burn the same.
This time, no words in between. Fuck it all.
Chaos.

I knew.
I've lost.
I knew. Definitely.
It's such a shame.
I've lost.
As I always had to.