Joy to the World

  I ran out of time.
  I am empty.
  I exuded every temporal drop out of me,
                                                   like sweat,
                                                        like blood,
                                                                  like semen.
  And now I stand at another point
                                           of ends and beginnings,
                                                 armed with the selfsame insecurities and uncertainties
                                                                   of my erstwhile existence.
                                                                         Nothing has been achieved.
                                                                                  Nothing fulfilled.

  Oh joy, oh joy to the world that harbors the likes of me.

June 1, 1997