Saturday, 14 January 2012


My pattern of life is injured, and it takes some synthesis that is not fair to my feelings, and a smoke of deliverance of love gives me a pain that is not controlled by me, smoke is a mystical probe in which I am living; and in the shore of sea, I am travelling like a restless bee, and the smoke is not away from me, even if the breeze flows in and makes me breath sweetly to live on this earth. I am chasing one item to another item, one thing to other thing, yet I am not moved in the tale of love that I want to take part till date. A new thinking of love comes in me, and immediately it is vanished, and the defending part is smoke with which I am living now, against my mind. I am in poor celebrations of life, and my loved one is travelling with a regained zeal to feel love in full bloom, and I am in full trajectory that is like a small one in the threshold of life, and this life is pattern of exposure and stricture and suffering with which I am living in this world.

Features of this smoke is colorless, odorless, and I cannot breath in it, yet I have to stay inside it, as if I am the morbid spectrum, and other part of my life does not see me, and this is the cause, she does not accompany me in order to avoid distaste of life, a travelling passion without a circle of protein inside. This smoke has some mutest intension to seal me from my loved one, it has no motion, it has no real partnership with other inert gas states, it is no earthly motivation, yet it exists in earthly affairs, and I am the first victim of its severity. This smoke is not in group of acidic smoke, as it is not in pungent odor group, and this makes me incompatible to fight back its affect.  

My love woman has no courage to penetrate this smoke, and try to reach me, as she has no time to calculate my importance in her life, and she is prone to take an easy access to her loved one who has no smoky pattern to live with. I have not even one smokeless pattern – I am the worst one.    

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