Cruel Nature

 

I want to taste these poisonous lips just one more time,

I want to remember how does it feel like…

To feel the poison running through my veins,

Making me stop breathing,

Causing my heart to skip beats…

I want to feel weak for one last time,

As if this will be my last night.

Let me feel the dizziness again,

Let me lose my consciousness.

Let me bite these lips and then the kiss,

The kiss which makes me burn from inside out.

Watch how my inner fire consumes me,

I want you to see me at my weakest.

…

Consumed by toxic memories, I am still here in the dark,

I like to feel the pain, how tortured my soul is…

I love to beat myself down just for this venomous kiss,

The misery and self-loath is what makes me feel alive.

…

Kiss me one last time, break me again,

Let me drag myself into the never-ending agony,

I love torture, you can easily tell.

I am my worst enemy…

…

Kiss me and then run away,

Leave me restless, this is how I like it.

Torment is my middle name,

Don’t blame yourself, this is what I wish for…

….

Thank you for the kiss, now leave me be…

Troubled by my own addiction to the endless pain…

This is who I am – a broken soul, cruel by nature to her well-being.

I am not ashamed, just disappointed

Because this cycle has no end, 

I am just that powerless...

 

The Same Questions

 

I hate going down this road of pain when I try to be strong again. Sometimes I feel I am beyond repair as if I am an old phone. I hate pretending to be cheerful when the darkness still occupies my whole being. I just hate it. I feel powerless, as if I am a failure again.

I thought I was getting better and I can finally get what I want but no… for the past few weeks, I feel so down again. I just want to disappear.

Thank god I am good at acting cool, chill, always wearing my happy face and my carefree personality when in fact, I just want to get over with this torture called life. I thought I have finally achieved my goal to get rid of all my emotions, just to be back to my old self. And yet, here am I on this path again. I just had enough… Why I can’t perform a hard rest and go back to my “factory” settings? Why should I feel everything I do right now? Why I cannot stop beating myself down? Why I keep playing all these old records over and over again? Do I really love myself or love torturing myself? Why the same questions are keep coming back, keep bothering me, keep eating me alive???

Do I need try to break this cycle one last time???

The Dream

 

The dream is over, now quietly wake up.

The new day is about to begin,

Don’t think about what you felt while sleeping.

Living in a dream is a dangerous adventure,

Please, don’t cross the line.

The dream is over, now quietly wake up.

The sun is shining peacefully,

Wake up…

Don’t close your eyes again, the lids are not heavy,

Don’t try to escape again, it is not worth it.

…

The dream is over but you can’t wake up,

You messed reality with illusions.

You lost your soul to something non-existent.

Now, please hear my quiet voice,

Please wake up

Before you lost another day in vain.

…

The dream is over but it is too late,

There is no tomorrow for you…

The dream has killed your soul

Just like it did to me…

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….