Ода за самотата

Една нощ, докато вървях в тъмнината сред тълпата, срещнах себе си. Бледо същество, свито на кълбо в сянката на един вход, сгушено и треперещо като улично куче сред множеството.

Моето аз… Изоставено и самотно.

Моето аз, тресящо се от страх.

Страх от самотата, страх от тълпата… Страх, който вдървяваше костите му и го караше да трепери от студ в горещата лятна нощ.

Гледаше хората и мечтаеше да бъде някой от тях. Влизаше в главите им, в къщите им, под дрехите им. Разхождаше се из разхвърляните им кухни, отваряше хладилниците и наблюдаваше плесенясалите остатъци от некачествената им вечеря, купищата мръсно бельо в баните им, неоправените им легла с потните чаршафи… Един след друг, стотици животи.

Би продало душата си, за да вземе всеки един от тях. Само да се разкара от тъмната ниша на миризливия вход, само да пропъди пронизващия студ…

За да може да се страхува отново, слушайки ритмичното похъркване в леглото на някой непознат, но поне да усеща топлината на тялото му до себе си…

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Какво правиш когато нямаш нищо за правене?

Какво правиш когато нямаш нищо за правене?

Пускаш си музика, скролваш фейса, гледаш снимки, четеш неща… Говори ти се с някой, обаче няма с кой… Цъкаш на посоки по групите… Иска ти се да  намериш някой… Просто някой като теб… А отсреща само мацки, вярно като теб, ама не съвсем… И не ти се говори с тях…

Искаш да рисуваш, да пишеш, да пътуваш, а вместо това си затворен в някакъв стерилен офис. Отваряш празен документ, защото ти се пише… Но и там нещата вървят някакси стерилно… Няма хартия, няма мастило, няма дъх на старост, на нечии тайни витаещи наоколо… И единствното, което ти хрумва да напишеш е: „Какво правиш когато нямаш нищо за правене?“

Нищо не правиш… Просто си стоиш… Отброяваш частиците от времето, в което не вярваш и очакваш да дойде момента… Момента да си тръгнеш, момента да хванеш листа хартия, платното, китарата… Момента, в който ще имаш време, но няма да имаш вече енергия… Защото си я похабил, отброявайки частиците на времето, в което не вярваш… И тогава ще седнеш изтощен на пода с китара в скута и ще си кажеш само: „Егати, още  девет часа, изгубени безвъзвратно от живота ми…“

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Вещица

witch

Събуди се рязко от звука на хвърчащо стъкло, който лицето издаде, разбивайки се в стъпалата високо над облаците. И беше свободна, безименна. Мария беше взела името си преди да умре за пореден път. Сега тя нямаше име.

Знаеше, че има тяло, защото усещаше тежестта му. Опита се да го раздвижи преди да отвори очи и не успя. С мъка надигна клепачи и видя вещицата, седнала върху гърдите й. Познаваше я добре… Често я навестяваше… Но този път беше различна. Вещицата беше Марена и Марена беше вещицата.

Събра цялата си сила, засили енергията си и изкрещя без думи:

-„Стани! Махни се от мен!“

-„Ще стана“- отговори Марена- „Но само, ако дойдеш с мен.“

-„Ще дойда“

Марена стана от гърдите й, докосна челото й и с рязко движение на ръката си измъкна душата през върха на главата й, потапяйки я в писъци…

Събуди се от звука на реката на дъното на пещерата. Беше влизала в нея и преди. В паралелен свят, в който пещерата си беше просто пещера, а Той беше просто каменен силует на дяволско лице.

В тази пещера, обаче, тя лежеше в краката му с лице към земята, но с всяка част на съществото си го виждаше.

Караше я да се чувства у дома… Подчинена, унизена, по очи на безплътния под и обичана… Не сама…

Потопи се в усещането, в образите, звуците и концепциите, който Той й казваше без думи. Потъна някъде дълбоко и забрави коя  е била преди това и коя трябва да бъде след. Защото просто беше… Любов… Чуваше и виждаше думите му едновременно, защото там, където беше чуването и виждането не бяха отделни неща… Енергията му минаваше през нея:

 „Любовта е законът! Любовта под волята!“.

После потокът спря и я остави празна и в безтегловност, почти бездиханна на студения под. И болката я обзе. Тя я прие и се остави да я погълне.

Усети присъствие зад себе си, но нямаше сила да се помъчи да го разпознае…

-„Време е да вървим“- каза Марена.

Взе я в ръцете си и я понесе обратно през времето и пространството.

Положи я в леглото й и нежно постави ръка на челото й.

-„Трябва да ме прибереш в сърцето си- каза-  “За да помниш, докато си тук. А аз ще те пазя… Вземи името ми и ще бъда твоя херос“

Тя отвори сърцето си намери сила единствено тихо да простене, когато Марена прогори името си в него.

И Марена беше тя. И тя беше Марена. И Марена беше вещицата…

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Олав

Олав

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Ave Marena

As you draw from the cigarette

And inhale all the flame

You can find yourself thinking

Of her

And her name

That you wrote on the canvas

To evoke her

Through space

To provide you the magic

That she gathered through pain

Then you see her face smiling

And her eyes in the shade

Of the hat quietly sparkling

Before drifting away

To her sweet pandemonium

Where there is no escape

As you draw from the cigarette

And inhale all the flame

You can find yourself thinking

Of her

And her name

That you wrote on the canvas

To evoke her

Through space

To provide you the magic

That she gathered through pain

And you find yourself walking

On a warm autumn’s day

In the street where her home is

Maybe waiting

In vain

Then you look at the ground

To vinyls thrown away

And you can’t help but wonder

Will I too go insane?

As you draw from the cigarette

And inhale all the flame

You can find yourself thinking

Of her

And her name

That you wrote on the canvas

To evoke her

Through space

To provide you the magic

That she gathered through pain

Then you sit on her window

On a cold winter’s day

And you see a tear dropping

From an eye that’s so sane

Tears of woman

To a woman just born for the pain

You reflect on that shortly

Then your mind drifts away

As you draw from the cigarette

And inhale all the flame

You can find yourself thinking

Of him

And his name

You can see him there

Sitting

Just escaped from his grave

And you frown as he tells you

He’s with her on his way

And you can’t help but wonder

If he’ll love her or kill her again

Then your mind goes on drifting

Aren’t both just the same?

 

 

 

 

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Ghost

You hear the screams in your ears

As he enters the room

And you know you have to go back

Quickly

And chase him away

You dive back through space and time

And try to start feeling your body

To enhance your energy

And chase the bastard out

“You’re not wanted here!”

You scream in his face

And off he goes

To the kitchen

They always hang in the kitchen at night

Sometimes they lean across the door

And lock it as you’re trying to push it open

Then they move to the closet

‘Cause you never go there at night

He went away but left the screams behind

And you walking around the room

Trying to turn the lights on

As their switches pierce through your hands

You try to wake up

And fail

Then you realize that you’re still outside

And the feeling of your flesh is just an illusion

So you try to go back in

Try to change your breath

Just a habit left behind from the times when you weren’t sleeping alone

You change your breath and a friendly hand shakes you awake

Rescues you

But that’s long gone now

So you try to move your finger

Just a finger moving and you’ll be back

But the finger is made of stone

It takes you ages to get there

In what seems like hours but may also be days or years

You start moving your hands

And you awaken

Heart pounding against your chest

Bed shaking underneath you

Ghost long gone

Ears still screaming…

 

 

 

 

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The alphabet of a crashed heart

T

T stands for Ireland

It stands for black ale

And liters of it

T stands for a pile of coins on the dining table

T stands for weekend drives in the Bulgarian country side

T stands for crashing the car for the first time

T stands for walking in the street in a track suit and t-shirt

When it’s minus ten outside

T stands for giving a blowjob standing on your knees

And feeling your head being pushed when you don’t want it to be

T stands for feeling ashamed when the bar owner asks you to leave

T stands for staring at the ceiling at night

And wondering if he’s going to suffocate in the middle of a snore

‘Cause he’s passed out next to you

T stands for wondering who you’ll practice your English with when you just left him

T stands for hearing that he lost a lot of weight after you left

T stands for chocolates and a goodbye letter sent to your old address

T stands for wondering what kept you there for a year in the first place

T stands for loosing trust for the first time

V

V stands for Corfu

It stands for a white vest and a track suit

V stands for getting shit faced for the first time

V stands for throwing up in the bathroom

V stands for green grapes left on your bedside table the day after

V stands for the first broken condom

V stands for having your hair washed by a man for the first time

V stands for pity

And pity being the only reason for not having left him after a week

V stands for smoky cafes somewhere in Sofia

V stands for having sex in the hallway

And the car

V stands for having a home outside of home for the first time

V stands for learning to cook

V stands for someone dying in the next room

V stands for marriage

And divorce too

V stands for finding a pile of vegetables in the shower

And a pig’s head in the pot

On a Saturday morning

V stands for putting on a lot of weight and loosing even more

V stands for treason

V stands for a man who doesn’t stand up for you

V stands for mommy’s boy

Except his mother doesn’t really give a damn

V stands for leaving everything behind

V stands for having to start your life anew

For the second time

W

W stands for America

It stands for talking too much

And empty words

W stands for camping by the river

And by the lake

W stands for caving

W stands for climbing up the rocks to the top of a canyon and letting go

W stands for a house next to the woods

With a beautiful garden

W stands for getting up at dawn to catch the first train

And waking up the birds with the light of your bathroom window

W stands in fact for all trains

And train stations

W stands for having to drag him home from them

Drunk and calling you a whore

W stands for an ax and a gun

W stands for wondering if you have to laugh or cry when you see him hit his mother

W stands for ending up laughing

W stands for getting your phone stolen

By him

As you leave

W stands for the blue knee he gave you

W stands for receiving ridiculous e-mails for more than half a year after you left

B

B stands for Turkey

It stands for feeling safe

‘Cause you’re not expected to be a girlfriend

B stands for coming and going as you wish

B stands for rough sex

B stands for having your nipple sucked at too hard

B stands for no commitment at all

B stands for still having to say that you’re not interested anymore every once in a while

A

A stands for Lebanon

It stands for Facebook too

A stands for having the strongest wish to run back home on your way to your first date

A stands for wondering why this person is still not kissing you after the fifth one

A stands for Bailey’s

A stands for rice with shrimp

A stands for getting picked up from the street when it’s freezing and foggy

A stands for buying your guitar

A stands for thirty two orgasms in a row

A stands for thinking that despite of the lack of love maybe you can live with him

If he would let you

A stands for finding a black hair on your pillow

When your hair is actually blond

A stands for seeing a picture of him and you in the bedroom mirror

And realizing that you don’t actually own the t-shirt you see in the picture

A stands for leaving him on a sunny Sunday afternoon in October

When he thought that what you had to say was that you’re pregnant

A stands for being ran after in the office

A stands for actually having learned something from a relationship for the first time

A stands for the rice you’re still cooking sometimes

H

H stands for Germany

It stands for football and death metal too

H stands for depression

H stands for gloom

But not the nice kind

H stands for a face hanging down

Even when he’s smiling

H stands for testicles hanging the same way

H stands for a horrible breath

For the smell of sausages when you’re vegetarian

H stands for boredom

H stands for the strongest mint cigarettes you can possibly buy

H stands for an ambulance passing with the sirens on below your bedroom window

H stands for the airport in Dortmund

And all of the gypsies there

H stands for taking the plane home

And feeling relieved while looking at him cry

H stands for having enough

H stands for hitting the rock bottom just before pushing yourself on the way up

Alone….

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