night has befallen your eyes agleam,
iris casting shadows on those unseen -
falling, falling deep; darling, dearest
my gaze will catch you from the darkest pits - you
crestfallen, asleep - weaping on the tower's peak.

© fey (27/05/22)

our fingertips meet gently on the rim of porcelain
and as we take a sip from liquid infinity
all the numbness abides - induced by frost and rain.

the ember glow ascending from your eyes -
no tender coffee with cream could ever achieve -
is the epitome of what makes my inner child arise.

and i adore the way your index finger moves around the surface of the storm-kissed-window,
while you utter your thanks for whatever makes this autumnal evening swirl in an indigo-colored vertigo.

and i see it too.

© fey (27/12/21)

orbs of blue in the drizzle of rain,
a flesh-numbing cold; myriad of pain;
red-hued cheeks and traces of benzocaine.

russet irides shift with the aegean's quick moves
through the black pupil, colors to exclude
and brows are squinting; just in slight disapproval.

clumsy dance of eyes in the dim afternoon light,
café au lait für Zwei, für dich und mich allein,
as we bid our longing gazes a sorrowful good night.

© fey (25/12/21)

September leaves rustled in the glades of my mind,
I saw them dancing golden since August and July.

They shone gently in the tone of your eyes - russet-chestnut and striking hazel;
I still couldn't name how they struck me like a sharp blade - cruel and fatal.

And I saw your ghost lingering
in the corn fields of this autumnal dream.
You as blue aciano, me as red poppy,
complementing our floral color scheme.

A person like you doesen't even exist
and yet I am writing this.
Summer died long ago
but we were meant for the fall with the aching of the cold wind's blow.

© fey (19/09/21)

My ghostly heart longed for this story in ways,
it made lipstick stains appear on each and every page
and as the phrases hastily crumbled away,
under my ephemeral, sunken gaze,
the sun had also vanished from its cloudy lace,
somewhere in-between saccharine caffeine stains.

"Devourer of alienated lifes", he whispers softly,
"tell me your name, so that I may sleep in peace and bid my last farewell."
A mocking smile danced around the corners of her ink-tarred mouth, veiling the disease
of the joyous moments of a fleeting life's gentle breeze.
"You might already be aware of it", she exhales,
as she barely touches the brittle hands of her one and only lover,
known as DEATH.

© fey (06/05/21)

the sun dies gently behind the hills as I
wander through the pastel cloud’s apricot-nuance
with floating eyes of vacant iridescence.

and the sky lost all of its mighty blue,
now glimmering in a nonchalantly lilac hue
one could only describe as the universe spilled passion.

darkness manifests on the canvas of atmosphere,
its golden streaks devoured by mischievous glee
and we all sigh and finally close our eyes.

so that this journey remains all that we see.

© fey (08/04/21)

drunk on melancholy, i wander aimlessly
through the solemn state of “komorebi”,
where the sun dances in between leaves,
reflecting its countless memories.

if i had to describe how lonely each step feels,
I would tip-toe around intangible infinity.
my eyes gaze at the neighborhood like
a veil carries me through each door.
and it hurts to hear the laughter inside
because none of it has company anymore.

I wonder if the girls I spent my childhood with
are still behind those walls, in united reminiscence,
or am I the only loner chasing the spirits of the past,
lingering in each pebble my feet passes by.

© fey (02/04/2021)

sometimes you wake up
without really waking up.
you cling to your blanket like
it's the only resort  in your black-tarred heart.

sometimes the bathdoor seems so far away that
you need three hours to move one foot forward
just to stop midway and feeling overwhelmed by
how the floor presses against your naked feet.

sometimes all you could manage was breathing
and maybe making some green tea in the kitchen
and that's actually all there is, a mundane accomplishment
considered normal by healthy-minded folks.

sometimes you feel nothingness gnawing and chewing
your inner self, since there is actually nothing left than
a few bits and pieces of your former, cherish self.
and you actually cry, for there is nothing to hold on to.

sometimes it feels like not living could be the only way out but
actually,
quite frankly
you will always find a way out of feeling insignificant.
because i did. as mundane as it might sound.

so you can too
find a way out.

© fey (24/03/21)

today the coffee turned cold before
my lips could touch the rim of the mug.

today the flowers in my garden withered before
i could watch the petals gently growing.

today the world feels less comfortable and
more lonely than ever before.

maybe tomorrow will be different but
yesterday i said that too.

© fey (15/03/21)

It‘s in your eyes
and how those honey-clear gazes draw small circles around the sky, whenever
a lovely smile vanishes in the dim afternoon light,
like a swarm of youthful birds with wings wide spread,
ready to conquer the earth's terra incognita,
utterly remaining unread.

© fey (10/03/21)

The auburn flicker silently danced across her half-closed eyelids. A barely noticeable smile ghosted around her lips, as her empty eyes bore into the flaming core of the candle. He watched her, mesmerized, in undefinable awe of what was going on behind that small barrier of flesh and bone above her eyebrows.

“Have you ever wanted something so insignificant to swallow the world as a whole?”, she whispered, eyes still locked on the tiny flame, caged inside the glass of the candle. He couldn’t manage to answer. The only visible response was irritation, unfolding between the tiny space of his eyebrows.

But then her smile widened, overshadowed by immeasurable melancholy.

And then he understood.

© fey (18/01/21)

The night isn't gentle anymore.
Its darkness has a vice-like grip,
shattered, unwelcome
on her fragile throat,
leading to a crimson door,
full of destructive, intrusive thoughts about
sleeping
with eyes never wanting to open
again.

The night no longer offers rest
for her shattered, melancholical, heavy head
to gently abide the terrors of
turning silver to red on her already scarred flesh,
beucase life seems to stay
just like that.

© fey (30/12/20)

She learned to forget. She lingered in her heedless silence without the reverberation of a comforting echo. She spread her resigned smile across the mouldering canopy, touched the sun-kissed treetops that lined up in the background like green fortress walls.
And she went where he had disappeared to.

The nothingness.

© fey (17/12/20)

if i point a gun at the sky
will I have a shooting star?
because I can no longer believe in a lie,
spoken by imaginary gods from afar.
so I am going to create my own wish
with weapons made by human hands.
at least I can count on them,
for they will never diminish my devious plans.

© fey (12/12/20)

i wish the world
would hold its breath
just for one day.

because i am running with time,
only that
time is always one step
ahead of me.

i wish that just for once,
our breath would synchronize
as one
and only one
exhale.

© fey (09/12/20)

i haven't watered my flowers
equally less
as that fragile beat
inside my chest.

© fey (08/12/20)

And when you're searching for that paradise of yours,
built of inscrutable mist, balanced on a spider's fragile webs,
don't forget to invite me in as well.
Because this place was not made
for both our lost souls to stand
against rusty mechanisms of a mad world's wry farewell.

© fey (02/12/20)

The November asphalt is stolen,
enraptured and torn by
cracks of a longing summer's kiss.
Oh, where did the winter's magic go?
Where is the ice-cold embrace,
the beautifully written crystal maze
of snow?

© fey (20/11/20)

where did the smoke travel to
flame dead of the wick's woe
where did you go when
chronos stopped time and
aphrodite longed to see you
as the candle's grime continues
to taint the glass from
transparent to white and black
where you onced had vanished to.

© fey (05/11/20)

her world is not laced with sugar and milk
and yet she decided to put them inside.
a flavor of alienated, saccharine silk,
her otherwise pitch-black morning coffee had died
maybe, just maybe, because of him.

his world levitates on honey-like force,
sticky sweetness reigns tender lips,
one evening, a bitter intruder enters with no remorse,
he stepped into her world with long regretful sips,
eager to be enchanted by this “triste malheur”,
maybe, just maybe, because of her.

they were two kindred coffee spirits,
one leaving a sugarcoated sphere,
the other one becoming a brave pioneer.
although neither of them liked
the other one’s caffeine-induced sight,
they still thought of each other,
either on sweet, milky mornings or disgustingly bitter nights.

© fey (30/10/20)

i am just that kind of person
leaving flowers in your mailbox
with imaginary words engraved
in each and every petal,
utterly afraid,
because our language could not fathom all the feelings
i captured outside of my tongue as
some kind of endorphine induced knee kicks
lost in my butterfly-conquered abdomen

i am just that kind of person
slow dancing in the dark like
your silhouette is right beside my
worn paper-back stories of Erich Maria Remarque
and i know how silly it sounds when i say
that even your shadow is exclusively unique
inbetween the light cracks of the late October evening sun

i am just that kind of person
that wants to capture the corners of your mouth
inside an empty jar to hang around my neck
because i want to be the only person
being able to say "I wore your smile right above my heart,
like rose on titanic with jack on the promenade deck."

i am just that kind of person
because i could not be anyone else
beside you.

© fey (26/10/20)

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)

they never told me that
happiness would be hidden
in a teeny-tiny rounded tablet
witch a notch to divide and reduce
30 mg to 15 like
it's some humorless joke in which
only the cynical people would get
the punchline from and laugh.

i never thought that my smile would be a result of
a molecule structure, synthesized and
ready to be sold for 5 euros but only if
you live in a country with a non-profit health insurance.

i also would never have guessed it to be
such a creepy tongue-twisting name.
i'm tripping on my words like
amitriptyline trips on my jittery nerves.

what's the point of being myself when being myself means
being miserable?

© fey (04/09/20)

the sad frog in my wallpaper
watches me suspiciously;
narrow eyes full of decay,
nostrils small and insignificant.
we are having an ambitious staring contest
each with their own emptiness.

© fey (01/09/20)

with featherlike movements
he undresses me
not with his trembling fingers but
more with the whispered words lingering on my skin

"I'm afraid of loving you."

the way his gaze travels across my body
reminds me of what Helène told me
people loving each other with eyes closed
and lips ready to explore elegantly

i said that i am always a little sad
maybe he was too.

© fey (30/08/20)

she inhaled happiness like a dunhill cigarette,
smoke lingering on her cherry-red lips,
eyes vibrant of her last lover's kiss.

but she could not fathom mundane affects
of short-tempered love, masked as the ordinary desire of men.

no one asked from where her dull smile and the fine, white lines on her arms originated from,
nor did anyone cared enough about the numerous bruises,
ironically aligned like
a blossoming sunset between her thighs.

she was just the briefly glowing ember
in one's snow cold and harsh december.

© fey (23/08/20)

tend me like a succulent plant
let me get accustomed to
a place with more than just
an ephimeral hint
of a sunny view.

© fey (18/08/20)

i once made you a necklace with starlight in its core,
but its shine has died a long time ago,
before it even had the chance to be worn.

© fey (17/08/20)

I fear the moment the car key triggers the radio music to stop
   whenever it is pulled out of its ignition lock
and the moment the other one opens  the door to an echoless house with
   silence creeping out loud.

I thought that restless bees resided among the unoccupied spaces in our garden
   but it seems like they have chosen my hollow mind
   to settle in for another honey bargain.

With delicate movements and diligent striving
   they sweeten my flavorless anxietea
and reduce what's left of my juvenile entity.

© fey (27/07/20), (14/08/20)

Drinking poison to thaw the frozen
numbness suffocating the beating hollow
in my chest

sometimes only a few, more often enough to
paralyze my field of view

one liter of cider and three songs of lana del rey
in the dying sunlight the birds feel comfortable
and i
i just want to have fun
for once in my life.

in the starless sea i found my supernova
enveloping me in a warm haze of light
forever and ever and ever and over
happy.

no one understandy me anyway.

© fey (06/08/2020)

her eyes stay out of line
from the suffocating staccato of life
But what about your eyes?
They absorb the sharp edges
of the self-indulgent human kind.
Tell me about the stories of love,
maybe I will get to know it in
the deep dark corner right above
my blurry, dust-ridden forehead,
no one seems to care about enough.
So then, lay me to sleep,
let us wait for eternal slumber,
as we dive head-deep,
becoming incredibly number.

© fey (25/06/20)

her eyes were empty, the once sparkling iris forgotten already,
abyss-like mind filled with decay, shadow-tinted mood unsteady
“I don’t feel my body”, she whispered
limbs moving rapidly like snowflakes in a blizzard, hazy
when she imagined the edge, it was smooth and gentle
no sharpness, no pain intended
but instead of dancing with the knife she rather
watched its stillness with calm and collected anger
why was the metal shining so endearingly
when in reality it hold so much potential
to end her already

© fey (09/06/20)

i can't feel the paper anymore.

the gentle white hue slipping through delicate fingers,
words crumbling, unwritten.

i want to grasp the remaining ideas, before the malnourished muse decides to leave for good.

like the rest of them.

© fey (01/04/20)

i want to dance nonchalantly in a dust-ridden library
to all the cheesy ol' love songs from 1953,
with someone just as lost in the world's rapid haze as me

in the lazy afternoon sunlight of early spring
we could smile at the clouds messy formations in pink
ask ourselves if nature was really meant to be so god-**** pretty
while staring at each other with unspoken mutuality

sometimes i wonder
whether a person like that will ever come across me
or if this will stay a hopeless romantic's daydream forever

we'll see.

© fey (26/03/20)

your sounds are no longer consistent
the breeze gently brushes the memory that was once your voice
the echo being trapped in the split glass forever and
sometimes I wonder
whether glue would be enough to make the symphony play again
but that's a thought I'm not quite fond of

© fey (24/03/20)

is it boredom or depression
when a void - the size of three universes colliding alltogether-
settles down in my brain?
is it a lack of motivation or
a serious serotonin oppression?
am i shallow or am i unsure
of what to do next?

is it the serious will to die
or to just cease of existence?

What is it really?
And
What am I actually?

© fey (23/03/20)

I like how the beige curtains gently sway in the wind like
a dancing veil has decided to become a professional prima ballerina.

I like the way the sun traces its invisible fingers on the thin surface of fabric, as if every non-existent thing is a special kind of love, no one seems to get, except her.

© fey (20/03/20)

my soul craves the intimacy
the earth shares between the sky and the horizon
with innocent, raw
and gracious beauty

© fey (17/03/20)

this tide won't carry you along
take a deep breath, i promise
the force within you is strong
there are no boundaries upon us

let the wave pass gently,
i know the sorrow is tempting,
but out there are people
appreciating your whole existence immensely,

your story is yet to tell,
let time speak for its ending

and not your pain.

© fey (10/03/20)

getting drunk alone
is something i never thought i would experience

gettting drunk in general
is something i would never do on purpose

but today i felt so alone that i
almost naturally gulped one beer after another

and the warmth that spread inside of me
was like a welcome embrace out of the dark

i couldn't get rid of.

© fey (09/03/20)

sometimes
i expect people to be mind readers
because isolating myself inquires
friends to notice my absent features.

right?
well. not really.

is it too much to ask
if i am okay or even ALIVE?
sometimes people tend to hide behind
their shallow social media disguise

and i am sick of it.

morever,
i am sick of feeling redundant
unloved and absolutely angry about
experiencing an inner abundance.

that mental illness is giving me a hard time
because lacking of serotonin means
to struggle daily with a weird kind of paradigm

meaning that
despite people telling me that they do love and care,
i will never believe them because
from the very moment they share
that same feeling with someone else
i want to get a nom de guerre
and quickly travel to god knows where.

© fey (08/03/20)

words from long ago, unspoken on my tongue,
merging to silence on my wary taste buds,
vaporizing the breath i fiercely held in my lungs

i see myself unable to still remember them.

© fey (04/03/20)

sometimes
i just wanna rip the whole world apart
and never put it back together again

© fey (01/03/20)

reading romance novels is my closest experience to love
i bought myself some flowers due to the reasons I mentioned above
my bangs cover the darkness behind my forehead
sometimes everything coherent slips through my melancholical mindset

© fey (09/09/19)