Унищожете ме, нека изчезна

 

Влизам, излизам, сядам и ставам,

Навън и навътре търся и не намирам

Книгите с истории стари - забравени и обичани,

На мене прилични.

Лягам и пак ставам, не мога да гледам тавана,

Очите затварям и пак картините виждам

Рисувани със старите багри на топлина и умора.

Гледам и не виждам, говоря и мълча,

Не, не искам да знам,

Не, не искам да имам,

Не, не искам…

Не искам да имам тези платна,

Вземете ги всичките, заровете ги без да мислите…

Изкуството на болка ухае не на парфюм,

Не е за гадаене, само попитайте…

Намерих ги книгите – изгорете ги,

Нека тези разкази са на пепел….

Вземете ми всичкото, даже и песните,

те също са свирени в терзание…

Унищожете ги, не питайте защо…

Забравете ги…

Не, не искам изкуство да ме наричат,

Изтъкана от спомени болни.

И всички като критици

Да ме тълкувате с фигури и тропи…

Унищожете ме, нека изчезна…

Не искам аромата на сълзи от мен да се носи,

Не искам да имам, не искам да знам…

Не съм ни багра, ни нота, ни дума,

Аз съм неспиращ оксиморон…

Унищожете ме, нека изчезна

И в безкраността да се преродя.

How many times?

 

How many times can you die over night?

How many times can you lose your mind

Sitting quietly in the dark?

How many times can you survive the torture

Of being untrue to yourself?

How many times a soul can be shattered,

Pieces of a broken glass…

How many times a heart can stop beating

Just to feel alive?

How many times a death is welcomed into one’s life

When the finish line is blurred,

Hidden in the thick fog?

How many times the self-sacrifice is praised

Instead of being punished?

How many times the self-destruction is the only way

To feel a thing again?

How many times a forgotten being is the answer

Instead of being a cry for help?

How many times you have to lose yourself

In order to find the right path?

….

I am done with all of the above,

I have become a soulless being.

I do not long for the priceless salvation anymore,

The savior is long gone, non-existent.

 I no longer need to destroy the small piece of my soul.

Why being damaged is a bad thing?

Broken, forgotten, used and abused,

Tortured and crucified by those who don’t see

The beauty in the darkness when the moon is in its brightest.

....

I have died enough for anyone,

Now it’s time to live for myself, not for someone else….

In The Cold Light

In the cold light I stand still,

Emotionless and lost,

I am trying to remember

Who I was.

I am tired of giving myself,

To all who don’t appreciate me.

I am tired to blend in

Where I clearly do not belong.

I am tired to walk in anyone’s shoes,

I am tired to look for justification

For other’s actions

Just to find a better explanation.

I like myself shut,

Unable to feel the pain or joy

I like myself shut,

Building my walls up.

I am tired of being someone’s support

When all I need is to be left alone,

I am tired of being someone’s right hand

When no one stands behind me.

I am tired of all the excuses,

I am tired of all the lies.

I am tired of being accused

That I don’t understand.

…

In the cold light I stand still,

Fortified with huge fences,

I will never let myself feel

Any of the emotions.

I have willingly turned into robot

To preserve myself,

I will be my only one

To whom I bent a knee.

In the cold light I vow to myself

To never let my guard down

And even if feel the need of love

Mine to myself will be enough.

I promise I will cherish myself

Like I have never done before.

Here in the cold light

I let myself be reborn.