Пролетна.

Син на мајка природа и

син ко зумбулот пролетен

ден, жолт ко нарцисот

(е)ден, заведен од мирисот на пролетта со

сок од слатките јагоди и

сок од твојата душа,

во која никогаш нема суша

пролетна идила до гуша.

Есен.

Земи ме,
држи ме во своите раце
и гали ме со твојот ветер,
разбрани ми ги прамените,
поиграј си со мојата душа,
протреси ми ги мислите
и загреј ми ги рацете,
затоа што си ладна,
затоа што си горка,
затоа што си сува,
затоа што ме земаш и не ме пушташ,
а кога те нема, ми недостигаш,
кога те нема веќе, доаѓа посурова
зима, посуров допир
и кожава ми се лупи
и душава ми оладнува,
огладнува,
моли за еден чај,
моли за една книга,
моли за едно ќебенце,
моли за едно топло сонце,
кое само не осветлува
и не' остава сами,
сега си тука и си
менлива,
есен,
моја есен.

The story of a tree.

It's this tree,
you see.
A thousand words.
Thousand leaves.
For each autumn word said-
word by word,
leaf by leaf
falls.
And they all fall.
Every spring they are born again.
But this spring the tree started dying.
It's branches were no longer green and full of life.
It's roots were pulling the ground just to stay alive.
It was fighting so hard to be beautiful again, to be normal.
But it wasn't.
It was seeing it's end
and it gave the last leaf to the wind.
The wind hugged the leaf and it flew away.
The root was still there but the tree was forgotten.


Your tree isn't burned
it was never lit.
Its soul still lives
with the memory of it.

Fear.

So what is fear?

You're laying on your bed, looking at the wall, barely feeling your body, your mind is burning, your chest is hitting your skin, You are feeling some kind of bubbles in your throat. This is where the story begins. Why here you might ask? Well, its the outcome of the events that always destroys us and leaves the scars that cut us in the future, making us disabled to see things differently, afraid to be hurt, crushed.

The ability to feel everything, is a blessing and a curse. To feel mercy, to find beauty in every evil, bad person. To justify their actions. To always feel insecure about everything. To help that old woman to pass the street so you don't feel anxious. To comfort every friend that left you, or distrusts you. To be the ''stone'' for leaning on for everyone, and ignore your own feelings. But at the end of the day you still want someone to ask you: how are you? And if they do, you'd still say something good, although you don't feel that way, just to not get that person to pity you or worry. Because you care, a little bit too much for everyone. Being impulsive and being weird. Every life event to suck you dry. To sit alone at night with million thoughts in your head. Starring in the mirror in a person you don't recognize. If we could see our souls in the mirrors, the world would be a much uglier place, a horror movie. You wake up everyday and hope to live another day without those thoughts taking over you. Live another day without feeling guilty for every stupid thing. Wanting to be numb and heartless. But you aren't and you carry on. You keep on running in your own war.

Ноќ.

Трчаме,
небаре некој не гони,
соништа чудни не будат,
ветрови бесни си одат,
фатени за рака в бој,
со сите пчели рој,
си трчкаме ние,
додека волкот страшно вие,
ноќта повикува бесно,
бидејќи небото е претесно,
за нејзината душа,
за нејзиниот сон.
Оди,
бегај.
Води не кон патеката долга,
оди каде што стои влага,
каде суви души стојат,
и само гревови бројат,
оди,
трчај,
Пази да не задоцниш.

End.

When my heart doesn't beat like it used to,

I will twist this knife and bleed my aching heart,
Lightly tear it apart
Lost with my eyes and
These are my starry solitudes

Home I return across the sea

I see the others far away

Such staggering peace, such enormous laughter but
Each part of me eats itself
Void in the
Evening
Rust
Ending this weather
Now, with my gun
Deprived from the world.

Moon.

Blooming,
rising,
Ice.
Without ache,
without consent,
it's there,
it hugs you
and slowly takes over you.
Sometimes you feel a lot of it,
sometimes a little,
but it's still there,
poking,
aching,
salty,
still and quiet,
while a whirl of dust
carries you away,
You are still battling.
But it's fine, it's okay
'cause I'm here.
I'm here for you.