i loathe the nightly routine of
complex human emotions.
the insecurity induced fear of
never knowing what intimacy might feel like
because my outer layers won’t invite
any invidivual in, since sharp daggers are
what a gaze of mine would spill

I loathe the nightly routine of
crying myself to sleep when I read
all the lovey-dovey descriptions of
some couples won defeat
over loneliness and feeling utterly incomplete.

I know you know what I mean.
being the first to hide and the last to dream
of idealistic connection in a world
lost in translation.

I see you.
behind the screen.
misunderstood.
not able to cross the line of
wanting to be alone and
never wanting to be alone again.

I get the hint.
I wish I wouldn’t be so bothered about it.
listen to the piece of advice saying
“it happens when you least expect it”,
**** their optimistic mindset, really

we live in a society,
where connection might be easy
but hard to develop as something
more than a swipe to the next inviting beauty.

video may have killed the radio star
but the digital absurdity of modern society
suffocated the hopelessly romantic
and gave him a good ******* amount of
overdeveloped anxiety.

© fey (05/10/20)

one thought, quietly
sneaks through the 30 milligrams of amitriptyline
in an unmistakable and perfidious way.

and whispers, full of dark foreboding:
"I know serotonin isn't enough for you,
my darling."

© fey (29/09/20)

I don't want to bid farewell.
Neither to the glowing evening sun, lingering on my book pages with its last, warming rays of light.
Nor to the last corner where the cooling shadows didn't reach through to envelop the last trace of day.
I don't want to.

I want to capture the moment selfishly,
let it remain in my fist, closed ever so tightly.

I don't want the silent night to come,
I don't want this golden hours to end,
Don't go yet.
Stay.

© fey (22/09/20)

Inside the forest
a nostalgic alike rain
dies on a flower.

Mori no naka
natsukashii ame
hana de shinu.

© fey  (27/11/19)

i'm feeling,
i'm dreaming
exceptionally lonely today

stumbeling from phrase to phrase,
like a toddler learning to
get used to the endless space
of walking.

serotonin is a fleeting butterfly
as equally lost as the moth that died
while diasappearing in the crescent moonlight

i need a better molecule structure,
maybe a more sophisticated formula
to deminish the activity of the stupid receptors

i just want to be happy.

© fey (14/09/20)

I am a dream dancer.
My strings are taut
over the vaults of the sky so soft.
Like a quiet muse I hear
the silent night breaking in.
Like marble, strands of clouds shine brightly,
in shades of rosé and nacre here,
those anxious sounds are getting lost,
now blanching in rust  and debris near.

I am a dream dancer,
staggeringly floating in the sea of the world,
wobbling and falling on thin ropes,
spoiled in nothingness and oh so empty,
despicably holding the here in fear.

I am a dream dancer.
And I fall
As an eternal bliss truant
To the ground.

© fey (28/12/17)

i'll never forget how his radiant blue eyes
concealed such a vast, continuously expanding universe
and how his notorious laugh echoed like a toneless thunder
through my quietly admiring, sunken gaze.

the messy handwriting adorning his caffeine-kissed lips,
lovely tainting the fancy words on his fiery tongue,
as mesmerizing as the last remnants of a lunar eclipse
i was swept away easily, utterly stupid, naive and also young.

i would have loved to be absorbed by his crazy tellings,
deeply hidden underneath that soft, brownish locks of his,
containing the tempting sweetness of honey drops, indwelling
as an uncharted, seldom kind of bliss.

© fey (11/09/20)