I am in debt.

You have such confidence to buy my freedom.

You who think is stronger than Samson.

knowing than Pythagoras and theorists.

I have to save you from assuming.


This is not a poem.

Neither a dialogue.

There are no meters, rhythm or syllabication.

I don’t know what this is.

Maybe a warning,  anathema, schadenfreude.


The cold mist explores the volatile atmosphere.

I have no wise thoughts but an urge to prepare.

It may come as gravitational and stellar mishaps.

A universal accident..or by reason of faith.

And just as we humans justify, “it is what it is.”

It is rather a scrape of the surface.


It is a wonder how people speculate on my wandering.

The inability to express at the same wavelength perceived as stupidity.

Doll make up and stature. Date hopping and incapacity to attach.

Radical philosophy and free spirited mingling.

Pessimism and conceptualizing virtue of Now.

Unstable emotions and discrete thoughts. Alienated demeanor towards normal circumstance.

Acceptance of death and my withering strength.


I understand you cannot recover nor forget.

My shoes are not fittingly of comfort and familiarity to others.

Why do you believe I am the blackwidow then?

If you have high hopes of changing fate and me.

I am in debt. Of the years I was trained to do as I am tasked.

My resources are enormously laid free for it is of purpose.

And for that I cannot indulge as I please.


This quiet plea to grow conscience.

Name, title, face, fashion. Monetary value and eloquence of speech.

Recognition. Do you really think it would matter if you realize what this world is made of?

How can you find truth if one is picking out from a dump where parasites hover around.

They tell you one truth to masquerade another truth in hiding.

By gaining, you have lost peace. No mercy even in death.


Consider this mumbling as nothing but some crazy adaptation of reality in my head

When I occasionally break in eyes hysterically stuck in hypnotic state.

Leave a comment

Hey! Thanks for dropping by. :)

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

  • Archives

  • I Love These Blogs!

  • BlogRankings

    Fashion & Style Blogs - Blog Rankings
  • Categories

  • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

  • Advertisements

...with stories, poetry, spirituality, motivation, breaking news, actuality, thoughts....


A great site

Abby Mabb

Snarly female. Occasional book reviewer.

Espen Stenersrød- From Pen To Heart

Jack Kerouac with a scent of Henry Vaughn

The Neighborhood

The Story within the Story

Gotta Find a Home

Conversations with Street People

Girly Dreams

"The hero of my tale, whom I love with all the power of my soul, whom I have tried to portray in all his beauty, who has been, is, and will be beautiful, is Truth." Leo Tolstoy

%d bloggers like this: