A Diary of Dreams...

Don't know why I'm still afraid, if you weren't real I would make you up now I wish that I could follow through, I know that your love is true and deep as the sea. But right now everything you want is wrong, and right now all your dreams are waking up, and right now I wish I could follow you... To the shores of freedom, where no one lives. Remember when we first met and everything was still a bet in love's game? You would call; I'd call you back and then I'd leave a message on your answering machine. But right now everything is turning blue, and right now the sun is trying to kill the moon, and right now I wish I could follow you... To the shores of freedom, where no one lives. Run away tonight... We're made out of blood and rust, looking for someone to trust without a fight. I think that you came too soon, you're the honey and the moon that lights up my night. But right now everything you want is wrong, and right now all your dreams are waking up, and r...

Dyre is the smallest village you can imagine. It’s somewhere north of Central Europe, but if you ask someone from Dyre, they’ll tell you it’s in the middle of nowhere. And they’d be pretty right about it. Usually not a lot of people pass through Dyre and those that do are here only because they lost their way and need shelter for the night. The people here have learned to keep to themselves, though they would gladly point you to The Soul Cage. The Soul Cage is the only place you can go for a drink, or look for shelter in Dyre. It’s one of those really small pubs that you overlook on a Friday night in the city, the one that looks cheap and half-empty, with a bartender that’s lazily smoking a cigarette behind the bar and a waitress wiping the glasses with just as much enthusiasm. But when that’s the only place you can have fun at, you learn to live with it. People say strangers don’t last long in Dyre because it’s too small and too quiet for them. You have to be born in Dyre to like Dyre...

Having A Coke With You is even more fun than going to San Sebastain, Irun, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt partly because of the fluoresent orange tulips around the birches partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still as solemn as unpleasently definitive as statuary when right in front of it in the warm New York Vienna 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world except possibly for the...

In a land where space and time collide, In a place where everything is real, I dreamt of us last night. You were a Poet, and I was your Muse. I looked over your shoulder, You wrote my name in tears And smiles and whispered sweet lullabies. In a land where space and time collide, We sat there – the Poet with his Muse, We conversed and said goodbyes And met again, and laughed and cried. In a place where everything is real, We spoke of many things, Of us, of fools, of kings And we forgot the world outside. I dreamt of us last night, As the Poet and his Muse, We sat there and conversed. I watched over you, you wrote my name. You were a Poet, and I was your Muse, The invisible, invincible precious thing, The one you left unnoticed and the one That wishes, dreams and whispers. In a land where space and time collide, I wish we'd sit there, a Poet and his Muse. In a place where everything is real, We'll meet and like a Poet with his Muse We'll converse, oblivious of the world, Of w...

There's really so many things to say about this song and the video, but I lack the words. It's all a haze in my head... Provehito in altum. Per aspera at astra.

Isn't it sad how memories die, How they turn to ash and wither away? Isn't it sad how we walk away, How we turn and walk away? Isn't it sad how without regret we burn The bridges that kept us from burning? Isn't it sad how somehow we lose track, How we go on and never look back? Isn't it sad that you die not by the hand Of your enemy, But by the hand Of your friend? My midnight sun to warm me, That's all I want right now. 16.02.2011 Replica

Кога пак ще я видиш, Срещу тебе да върви, Да се усмихва? Кога пак ще е твоя, В ръцете ти да се отпусне? Кога пак ще го види тя, Да се усмихва, Кога в очите му ще се загуби? Кога пак ще се смеят, Забравили света И кога пак ще се срещнат момчето със сините очи и дамата със сивото палто? 25.01.11 Replica

Попаднах на това случайно. Едно от малкото красиви неща във фейсбук. Хареса ми ужасно много по ред (лични) причини, а понеже авторката (Antonia Doncheva, ако попаднеш тук - това не е опит да плагиатствам :) ) не е сред приятелите ми и знам, че до 2 часа няма да мога да го открия отново, реших да го постна тук. Едно такова, ноемврийско... Най-тъжно е, когато е студено, а у дома не ти се връща. Града кръстосваш, уморена и от сърцето си събираш късчета. С наперената си походка, ще крачиш, ще изглеждаш хубаво – Кой знае колко си самотна? Кой знае колко ти е струвало? И някак никак не ти пука че кецовете пак пропускат, ти знаеш, че са само временни – и зимата, и кривите ти чувства. Дали са релси линиите на трамвая, със влак да те откарат до морето? И тръгнеш ли по тях, дали накрая ще пуснеш лятото в сърцето си? Разбира се, че тръгваш да се връщаш. Не може цяла вечер да скитоскваш. Но знаеш, че за малко, в тъмното, до себе си си се докоснала.

To all my old friends, To all my new friends, To the people I just met, To all those close and far, To my online friends, To my sources of inspiration, For the wonderful year it's been. For the laughs, the tears, the pain and happiness. Next year will be even better. Nothing can stand in our way! Reminiscent, scared, living in memories, tanzende bis zum Morgengrauen and whatnot else Replica

After some time spent with Anya and Vicious, I figured I have far too great plans for that story than to let it linger somewhere in between all the other posts, so I moved it to its own address: Rock'n'Roll Souls . Please make sure to check that blog for new parts of the story. As of today all parts so far (1-5) are available there. No more parts will be published here. Lost in Someone's Eyes, Replica

The cigarette touches your lips. It’s the gentle, poisonous kiss that we both crave. A little part of me gets jealous because it’s not my lips touching yours. A little part of me gets glad because it’s not my lips touching yours. I grab the half-wrecked and almost done for box of cigarettes and even though I don’t want to smoke, I go out just to be there and watch your deadly dance, as I do mine. “Can I have a light?” My voice sounds ragged, tired, sleepless, excited, intoxicated, dreamy… Your eyes meet mine and I feel like Alice, falling down the Rabbit Hole. That deep indefinable blue-green gaze only you have throws me in a sea so deep, I can never be saved from. I smile gently as I reach for the light in your hand and innocently brush my fingers across your hand. You flinch for a second and your eyes dart to our hands, to the barely-there, barely visible dance of seduction. I lick my lips on a slow, soft motion, as I move the cigarette up to my mouth, then your muscles tense a...

Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Обичам да заспивам до теб и да чувствам как ти заспиваш до мен. Обичам да целувам теб, да усещам устните ти близо до моите. Обичам да се будя до теб и да виждам как ти се будиш до мен. Обичам да целувам теб, да прегръщам теб, да обичам теб. Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Обичам да се любя с теб и да чувствам как ти се любиш с мен. Обичам да докосвам теб така, както не съм докосвал никога. Обичам да сънувам теб, да усещам как ти сънуваш мен. Обичам да се смея с теб, да прегръщам теб, да обичам теб. Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Да, обичам теб... Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш.

Almost a decade later, our love is still as strong and as beautiful. I can never thank you enough. "Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all [...] You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never [...] Be calm - love me - today - yesterday [...] Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved. Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours." Ludwig Van Beethoven 30.11.2010 Replica

England Cynthia grunted in disgust as she saw the rain pouring outside the airport in London. I wasn’t particularly fond of it either, but my mind was preoccupied. We arrived over an hour ago and there was supposed to be a private car to pick us up, get us to our hotel and drive us around wherever we wanted to, but there was still no sign of it. Cynthia was on the verge of her patience and I could see her eyes darting to the cigarette shop nearby. She quit smoking years ago, but I can imagine how nervous she was right now. Hell, I could use a smoke too. So we headed there, bought a pack of cigarettes and headed outside to smoke. “Fucking rock stars and their fucking fashionably late trends!” There was no way in heaven or on earth that you could make this woman hold her tongue once she got pissed off. Especially not when it comes to rock stars. “What do you think will the story be?” “About the song? They’ll probably come up with something ridiculous that no one will believe. The more im...

Кажи обичаш ли ме още? Кажи, обичаш ли ме още? След толкова години вече… Еднакви дни… Еднакви нощи… И стар… и грозен… и объркан… И нямащ време, нямащ време… Кажи, обичаш ли ме още… Кажи ми, дявол да го вземе. Недей мълча… Не се преструвай, че ти е все едно отдавна. Ах, битката ни бе жестока, но точно затова пък славна. Две кучета… И остри зъби… И пак съвместно съществуват. И не разбираш в крайна сметка ръмжат ли или се целуват. Кажи обичаш ли ме още? Дори да кажеш „не” – кажи го. И напиши го, размножи го на ксерокс или със индиго. Раздай го на света, пръсни го от самолет като реклама как имало любов, която сега я няма… няма… няма… Но има… има… има… знам го. И ти го знаеш безусловно. Тя съществува нелегално, прикрито, тайно и съдбовно… Натаралежена, сърдита… как искам аз да я погаля… Но тя като бодлива топка по стръмнината се търкаля. И тъй… Аз още те обичам…Ще ти го кажа някой ден, но … Дали пък точно днес, например, да ти го кажа непременно. А в други ден да те попитам , тъй както те ...

Арестувайте я! Приберете я! Далеч да от мен, махнете я! Затворете я в килия, далеч да е от мен! Убийте я проклетницата, дето се любов нарича! Затворете я далеч, в малка стъклена бутилка; Най-горе я сложете, че никой да не я стига. И там да си седи, и прах да събира, Доде не я забравят всички. На прах я стрийте, изгорете я, убийте я. Далеч да е от мен, махнете я! И колкото и да се моли, не слушайте я - Думите й лъжат, действия - измамни. Приберете я в бутилка, най-горе я сложете. И там да си седи, и прах да събира... 09.11.2010 Replica

Life is cruel. At the moment, when you thought you had everything, the most important thing collapses on you. No, not just collapses... I don't even know the word to describe it. A piece falls here and hits in the face, then another one, right there in your stomach, taking your breath out. Then another one hits your arm, and your leg... and by now you can barely stand on your own two feet. But it's not over yet, the big piece, the one that will rip you open is yet to come. And when it does what choice do you have but to cave in? All meaning is lost and life is pointless to such a painful point, you don't want to live anymore, but you're too scared to kill yourself, so instead you do it slowly, naturally. You feast on pain and tears and cigarettes and nothing else. Because nothing else really makes sense anymore, everything has been ripped from you. You walk among people, trying to find a way to keep him out of your head, just for 5 minutes, and you end up wondering ...

"So I stayed in bed and drank. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat." As I was sitting at the table with the glass of vodka in front of me, I noticed a particular glimmer in the glass. One most people don't see, or refuse to acknowledge because it's too painful. It's the glimmer of the mirror. It's that painful, painful mirror that you can see every time you reach for the glass and take it to your mouth. That's why some people close their eyes when they take a sip. They are scared of that mirror. That mirror sees everything, knows all your dark secrets and is ready to tell you things your subconsciousness has been trying to tell you, but you shut it up. You can't make the mirror shut up, you can't manipulate it. It's the purest, truest of all mirrors. And that's the beauty of it, of just sitting down with a drink in front of you, without anyone to take lip from. Just sitting there...

“Every living creature on earth dies alone.” We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. That’s the truth. No matter how much we try to connect to someone in our lives, no matter how hard we struggle to create a circle of friends, a family, people we trust, we all end up alone. We’re the most hypocritical species on earth. We lie to each other’s faces that we’ll be with someone forever. We lie we will be there for each other no matter what happens. We make vows, we swear on blood, on past, on emotions, on things. And we find a way around those vows, around our own vows. We forsake them. And in the end we are alone. We never really care for anyone, we exist. We’re told by our parents that they’ll always be there for us, but the truth is that the parents won’t understand you. Your friends will be there as long as you’re needed, as long as you’re of use to them. Your family, the people you love, will be there because that’s what society tells them to do. You can only rely on yourself t...

"Jeder Ausgang ist ein Eingang zu einem anderen Ort." Boots, leather, ambition. This feels like the right place. This feels like the right time. Success and nothing less. Samael and Lilith will walk these streets. A.K.-47. "Achtung. Du musst jetzt mit mir aufwachen, sonst kannst du mich nicht mehr verstehen." 31.08.2010 Replica