Words, spoken

I will let out  two, three words, sliding down my cheeks.


I do not want to steal the future time

I ‘d rather keep honor guard to the dead thoughts.


One day I will escape utterly, and leave a void for the last wish.


The autumn sky will be hidden by the gap of emptiness

And death.


Then, with the move of an experienced gambler, I’ll pull rope on the neck

Of nonexistent, the untouchable body.


I’ll let down my cheek

Two or three words.


Thus, comforted,  I will go to meet him, to appraise whether sensible

The spilled words where.



The Red is the colour of my life

Why are the traffic lights of my life always red? 


Even when I want to go, yellow stops me, in the moment, and doesn’t let me move an inch.


 I stand, I expect, hope exists, but is fading away.


I’m not going back where I’ve been, I want to go, go forward.


 But the green light does not come on. 


Is it a sign? 


Do I have stay where I am, and face all the memories from the past, before I move on? 


Again,  go through all the mistakes and harsh words, wrong acts, reckless thoughts……




Who decides where I’m going?  And when?


Am I not  the one who has the right to decide the moment is right or wrong?



Why anyone thinks that he is entitled to play with my traffic lights??


I am completely faced and aware with the consequences of what I have done.


How long will this purgatory last ?


In  eternity? 


Too long for me.



Please,  whoever looks at it all and knows all,

the one who gives himself  the right to decide instead of me,

please, ask him in my name- to let me pass through.


 I have suffered enough, and Red is not my color anymore.




Crveno je boja mog zivota

Zašto je na semaforu moga života uvijek crveno?

Čak i kada krenem, žuto me zaustavi u trenu i ne mičem se.

Stojim, očekujem, nada postoji ali je sve manja.

Natrag se ne vraćam, želim naprijed, naprijed, bilo kuda.

Ali svjetlo se ne pali.

Da li je to znak?

Moram li ostati tu gdje jesam i suočiti se sa svime prije nego što krenem dalje?

Opet proći sve pogreške i teške riječi, pogrešna djela, nepromišljene misli.

Zašto i čemu? Tko odlučuje o mojem putu? Zar nisam ja ta koja ima pravo ustati i otići? Zašto netko smatra da ima pravo koje nema? Ja sam svoja, ja sam ja, posve suočena s posljedicama svega što učinih.

Koliko će trajati ovo čistilište? U vječnost? Predugo.

Molim onoga tko gleda sve i zna sve, onoga tko si daje pravo odlučivati da uništi taj okov i pusti me, konačno. Odslužila sam svoje i crveno više nije moja boja.


Black road travelled in the night

Black road travelled in the night

Not mine photo. Too bad, because it is perfect.
It represents everything in my mind, colourless, empty, leading…somewhere.

I dream of driving full speed on a road like that, feeling free of everything that surrounds me at this very moment.
I don’t need companion, never had or nedeed one in fact.
I used to be alone, learned to speak with myself and make my own decisions.
Only thing that’s missing is a someone with who I can share a beautiful, hot mug of freshly made coffee in the moment of a sunrise in the end of the road
In silence.
No words nedeed.
Free open space. coffee taste, sun on the horizon appearing in a slight, yet visible form, touching my face.
Reminding me that, I am, in fact still alive.
Because, when travelling the black road, alone, you lose a sense of yourself.
As if nothing exists but blackness and speed.

Find yourself. Travel the black road. Bring a companion if you like. Or lose yourself in the perfection of the moment.

Wherever you are going, you’re always find your way back home.

And to yourself.

Trigeminy 303