Aleksandra Dimitrova

Project Which Is Not a Project by OPA
Translated from the Macedonian by the author, edited by Elizabeta Bakovska


I want a new ass and new tits a new brain new me
while I am planning the perfect suicide
while I am installing theatrically the stage of my future funeral
just to imagine hipper realistically the faces of everybody around mourning me
everybody around determining what a genius poet I used to be
all around actually crying over their own cowardliness
taking a box of pink pills

I want a new ass and new tits a new brain new me
while I am postponing the night for my perfect suicide
while I am imagining theatrically my posthumous glory
just to meet my favorite patient accidentally
who will find out in the next twenty four hours how realistically he used to love me
and he will never try to satisfy another woman

I want a new ass and new tits a new brain new me
while I am having a makeover done by the professionalism
of a make-up stylist
while I am skillfully hiding
the imperfection of my present body
just to over-drink vodka for the last time
with some accidental patient
who will read the next morning what a genius poet I used to be
and will start thinking realistically about the missed opportunity
for being my last


Your name begins with Dark
Darkness in your mouth
The skin resembles a dark
Dateless trance
Who am I?
How much are you?
Both standing with silence
Frightened by the Dark
By the letters in your name
By semantics their wild
Frightened by ourselves
By the passion in the names
By the nouns physically wild
That develop semantics in this time
Meaning for some life different
Scream in dark


Stiffened palate
Palates before stiffening
Before drowsing
Trendy and similar as the original
Everything is false
The vibrators
The stiffened palates
The colors
The only real thing is the sugar candy or
The doughnut
Desirable and irresistible
Maybe sweet
Viva Fraud


My co-driver could be my competition
In any beauty contest
Your phallus erodes
The co-driver looks like an antic sculpture in her every manner
My attempt to fit in with your provincial style
Now seems funny
Now I make stories about me and the co-driver
Now everything is different
Without feelings
Without fear
Without hopes
With an animal need to connect with the co-driver
A need to touch his veins
A need to feel his statuesque fingers
A need to get attention in his crotch
Who do you travel with?


From Monday to Friday
I contaminate myself in restrictive spaces
I eat genetically modified food
I lose a sense for the aesthetic
I drink more than an average Russian
Every Friday I decide that as of tomorrow (as of Saturday)
I will start the revolutionary diet
I will explore the untouched areas of the nearby mountain
I will write at least ten pages every day of the most trivial dialogues

On Sunday I realize that it would be very clever if I create my own web
If I start going to weddings with my mom
If I become Serious Positive Kind Feminine Simple
If I earn the first million in spite of an unsuccessful marriage
Every fucking week I fail with the plans from the weekend


I do not leave the apartment for couple of days
I clean it exhaustively
and then I mess it up
I eat scraps
I drink strange cocktails
I enlarge the dust heap
I talk to myself
First I am Juliet
than I am Romeo
The phone and the internet are disconnected for a long time
cause of unpaid bills
The TV is my best friend
I watch channels forbidden for persons under 18
The door bell rings
I don’t even try to check who’s at the front door
It rains all the time
It rumbles threatening
There is nobody on the streets
It is some kind of a holiday
Not for me


While you were adoring me in another era while you were kneeling while you were simple while you used to know how to love while
When in some time happier than now when you used to know how to listen when you used to know how to recognize the denotations to predict the unseen arguments for happiness when
Had you lied to me inexplicably about the completed gaps in your existence about the deafness I can hear screaming about the darkness I can see shining Had you lied to me inexplicably with the voiced consonants with the screaming slices Had you


Heads Every night lots of heads Dark heads
Empty Undefined facial expressions
Monotonous Dark heads placed next to each other
Dark like the soil Like the anemic sky Like un-bloodied water
The men are elevation handicapped
They believe in the power of the battery toys
Then at the toilet – ballerinas with batteries – strange female persons
Are inviting me to share the moment – to experience a mutual relief
It’s so funny from today’s perspective
But so irritating at the moment
Someone asks for my cell number
It is so recognizable and boring
My gears are mixed
I only desire my mysterious on-line lovers


The earth cracks
lava in our city
in our darkness
in our shadows
Only ours
only you and I
We are noticing the removals
the processes
The cracks of the earth
we are noticed in the earth
we are sensed
we are sensing each other
we are in the cortex
we are earth
only I you and the earth
in the chests
in the eyes
we are trembling
only your eye
your quiet eye is not trembling
it is dramatizing the truth
or it is advertising
the eye
the single
only the one
while we are swinging
trembling into the earth
the cortex starts to tremble
the earth
the eye is quietly fixed on me
on me only

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