The way you're sleeping with no worry in your head,
while I'm crying and weeping endlessly in my bed,
makes me wonder ever so slightly
"What the hell is going on in my psyche?"
You, a wonderful and humble creature,
I'm begging you to be my teacher.
I'm holding on to this heavy burden,
while you willingly embrace the uncertain.
As i am gently stroking that fur of yours,
the turmoil in my head is ending its wars.
And though I am aware that you're in no need of affection,
your glistening gaze is still seeking for my attention.
I'll ask myself "Are you lonely too?",
but your eyes wander to somewhere else anew.
I f*cking envy you.
But something deep inside me tells me
that as soon as I'll leave your side mercilessly
you will look after me sadly
and feel pity towards me

really, really badly.

and finally,
maybe

understand me?

© fey (21/12/19)

Light my fire,
shade and tender,
embers dark,
heart surrenders,
to you,
no vigor,
to you,
the sweetest of liquor.

I call you
mine.
I call you when the lightnings flicker
in the brazen afternoon.
The gleam of eyes still linger
on the milky porcelain of moon.

Until no spark shall burn again,
Until we meet with no restrain.
I love you,
I love you with the utmost of care.
I love you when the sun turns gray
and the seas recede and cease.
I love you in the darkest of day,
until we meet, until we fade
and only the ashes remain.
And I will love you no less.

© fey (23/05/24)

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)

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 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)

The skies gleam soft, spun by cloudy filaments;
Seven vertical contrails, pearlwhite, pale;
Our time together; liquid, trickling away,
the color of alabaster, corundum, topaz -
and you have gone lost, in our broken hourglass.

© fey (25/07/22)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

In the garden's tender shade I lie,
Underneath the azure sky,
Where whispers weave in harmony,
With the rustle of the leaves so free.

Beneath the boughs, I find my seat,
Where words of poets come to greet,
Their verses dance in the gentle breeze,
As I immerse in their symphonies.

A tapestry of blooms unfold,
Their colors bright, their stories told,
Each petal sings its own refrain,
In a language only hearts can gain.

The sun, a painter, strokes the air,
With golden hues, so fine and rare,
Its rays caress each blade of grass,
In a choreography, oh so vast.

And as I lose myself in verse,
In the garden's blessing, I immerse,
For here, between the earth and sky,
I find the beauty that will never die.

In nature's arms, I gently sway,
As time itself just slips away,
And in the silence, I'm not alone,
For poetry and nature, they are my home.

© fey (09/05/24)

I buried your smile beneath the rose garden,
for when the buds pick on the cry of the purple martin,
you'll be there,
never apart in
the winter-y longing, so strong, an
easy way for the dreaming soil to catch wrens,
you prolonged underneath, before me,
before us, before the rain-drenched, silvery shining stems
for all the world to catch, for all the prying eyes to see.

So let me water your gentle dimples, where the petals fimble.
Because I love you,
and I love our messy rose garden,
alluring bees, always keeping them from starving.

© fey (08/06/24)

In the garden, roses bloom,
Casting shadows, scenting gloom,
Petals whisper, colors gleam,
In their beauty, lies a dream.

Life's grand tale in blooms unfolds,
Each rose a story softly told,
From bud to blossom, swift to fade,
In their essence, truth displayed.

Thorns remind of trials faced,
Yet in pain, pure grace is traced,
Life, like roses, sweet and brief,
Balanced between joy and grief.

Morning dew and evening light,
Kiss the roses, pure delight,
Cycles spin, time flows and flows,
In each moment, wisdom grows.

In their fragrance, love resides,
In their bloom, all time abides,
Roses teach us, life is this –
A fleeting, fragrant, tender kiss.

© fey (15/06/24)

one might say 'it was a good day',
had some eye contact with ernest hemingway
[only his books of course, not his face],
also a large amount of caffeine,
while listening to the beatles 'yellow submarine'.

a teaspoon of long forsaken melancholy,
longing for joy and mischievous folly.
and all that remained
in my sorrowful mind to contemplate
were two cloud-shaped coffee stains.

one was bright, the other frail.
two might say 'it could be a fairy tale'.

only

that it was not.

© fey (23/09/19)

In the dim-lit maze of life's intricate game,
We dance, entwined, like a moth to a flame.
Beneath the veil of the starry night's sprawl,
Our souls converge, answering destiny's call.

Your essence, a beacon, in shadows aglow,
Drawing me closer, an irresistible flow.
With each hesitant step, I'm ensnared in your light,
Lost in the depths of this ethereal flight.

Yet, amidst the allure, a tempest brews deep,
A turmoil of passion, where secrets keep.
For in the fervor of love's fervent embrace,
Lies the perilous beauty of vulnerability's grace.

Like a moth to a flame, I'm bound and enticed,
By the flame of your love, by the price.
For though the fire burns with a fervent desire,
It also consumes, a relentless pyre.

In the flicker of moments, we find our reprieve,
In the shadowed corners where hearts believe.
For in the union of souls, in love's sweet refrain,
We're forever bound, like a moth to its flame.

© fey (26/04/24)

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

© fey (08/12/20)

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)

Sometimes I want a life I call not mine,
nestled in watchful eyes of untold dreams,
like night slips through the crack of bones
and moonlight calls the wary veins home.

But I know that want would dissipate
right after its imaginary completion
Because desire keeps an ephemeral business
and suffering is not as fleeting.

Life was never meant to be
this artificial currency
people call it money,
but it's bankruptcy
of life, of possibilities.

© fey (01/05/24)

I tint your eyes in hues of an auburn sky,
set aflame a starling's wings, flapping lazily in delight.

You are my sunset, a gentle murmur from within,
I will see you again, when the sunken snow drops return back in spring.

© fey (06/07/24)

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)

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)

You are
Tender twilight dangling below
Chiaroscuro paintings of snow.
And when those meadow eyes of yours glow green
And pale the glistening emeralds beneath
Tender necks of aristocrats,
My love enlightens the shadowed sea
For you and only you to be.

© fey (18/09/24)

(I)

I once had friends,
gathered like pearls on a string.
I kept them with me,
as a bird would
with its pretty wings.
But once they outgrew me,
they all fell apart
and along with them
my fragile heart.

(II)

I heard a nasty sound,
with shaky hands I searched
their presence on the ground.
But they were gone,
already rearranged.
So all I had
was a tattered ribcage.
Frozen in time,
lost in space
a heart with no beat,
just a shallow haze.

(III)

I made friends with words
instead.
Once they were written,
they would all stay in place.
The letters on paper
toneless, they said:
"you are my creator",
to which I replied
"with pleasure.
as long as you are not a traitor."

© fey (16/07/17)

sharks are passing through my brain,
for a second I thought they were beautiful.
but as I looked up again,
they were consuming my happiness away.

© fey (27/11/19)

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

Mori no naka
natsukashii ame
hana de shinu.

© fey  (27/11/19)

my coffee filter mind
consists of bitterness.
I let everything in
especially nothingness.
Something, I would like to keep
always flows through
these paper thin walls,
which only made me blue.

I wish to be loved,
I wish to be friends with,
I wish to exist

if only for oblivious bliss.

I ADMIT IT.

Instead, I hide myself
in a metaphorical beverage machine,
that enchants the taste buds of
every sleep-deprived lover of caffeine.

I secretely long
for those things I despise
because I'm so f*cking scared

of ripping my paper thin disguise.

My coffee filter mind
more or less cries.
Because it's not comfortable being around
others of her kind.

I want someone  to tear open my heart,
not to invade but rather comfort

my obnoxious coffee filter part.

© fey (16/07/17)

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

© fey (01/03/20)

as charming as they might be,
the spirits of those with no remorse,
i was only endebted to the eternity,
in the ember of your eyes infinite beauty.

[german]

so charmant sie auch sein mögen,
die geister derer ohne reue,
ich war nur der Ewigkeit verpflichtet,
in der Glut deiner Augen unendlich Schönheit.

© fey (20/09/19)

maybe it's the winter's tiptoeing snowfall,
the endless white on the monotone rooftops,
the silence of my room is louder than any hysterical scream,
i think i heard a breath leave my hollow chest
and elimenating my inner child's glowing sunbeam.

if i'd see a color pass my peripheral view,
just a tiny speck of a sunset's lilac hue,
i think my shattered heart would dance
and pretend to experience a solemn romance.

why does the winter always feel like
a suffocating grip around the throat of
those, dreaming and disappearing

of everyone's initial thoughts?

© fey (27/02/20)

Sleeping beneath the shell of my once beloved;
enduring cold, letting the depths of winter unfold.
For spring to come, where I shall plant thy seeds anew,
because I loved to caress the withered petals too.

© fey (03/11/24)

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)

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)

today my heart is aching,
ugly beats resonating from its chest.
friends are all fcking traitors,
masquerading empathy with ignorance.

take your stpid advice somewhere else,
I respect my shattered pride way too much
to care about your so-called "distress".

Where have you been
all the time
in
MY
mess?

© fey (23/02/20)

eyes in the color of outer space,
the milky way lost its enchanting glow,
whenever you lifted your reticent gaze.

apropos

you are a solid caldwell 39,
six-thousand-five-hundred-twenty light years away,
probably the "acid to my alcaline",
even the matrix to my data storing array.

I am quiet. I am calm. I am out of control.
maybe even slightly delirious.
my rationality got ****** into a black hole.

my heartless state in a temper tantrum; furious.

you are in outer space,
close to my everlasting hope.

If we won't meet face to face,
I will continue watching you through my telescope.

© fey (28/12/29)

In the realm where twilight weaves its dance,
A canvas of gold, a crimson trance,
There lies the rosy sunset's embrace,
A symphony of hues, a tender grace.

Upon the horizon, where day meets night,
Ethereal whispers in soft twilight,
The sun's last kiss, a fiery blend,
A story of beginnings, a start with no end.

The sky ablaze with passion's glow,
As shadows stretch, the world below,
In hues of rose and amber fire,
Nature's grandeur, a divine choir.

Each cloud a brushstroke, painted bold,
In whispers of stories yet untold,
The earth below, in rapture sighs,
As daylight fades and darkness tries.

Yet in this moment, time suspends,
As heaven and earth, their hearts transcend,
In the rosy sunset's fleeting gaze,
Eternal beauty, a soul's enraptured maze.

So let us linger, in this divine art,
Let poetry sing, and dreams impart,
For in the rosy sunset's tender hue,
We'll find the beauty, sustaining truth.

© fey (05/05/24)

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)

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)

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)

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)

forget about the plans you made,
the pit in your brain cracked open
once again,
and gone are all the mental band-aids
you enveloped your weary heart with
so much strain.

Instead,
prepare yourself for the darkness of your room,
resembling your inner turmoil,
Netflix binge-watching while hording snacks like a hungry racoon.

It's called depression.
and it won't let you off the hook
ever again.

© fey (25/02/20)

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)

And he asked her,
auburn eyes filled with awe,
hands stretched to the above
like a freshly blossomed branch in summer,
thoughts lost in innocent slumber:

"Is there anything more beautiful than the sky?"

She smiled and shook her head sheepishly,
assuming the contrary that,
indeed, there was something more beautiful than the sky.

But hed didn't need to know that yet.

© fey (5 weeks ago)

In silence lay concealed and still,
The blue of heavens here ahead,
It held the reins of clouds, yet frail,
While petals strove a lasting thread.

Astray she turned her hand away,
Towards the pale horizon's line,
In despair the black birds sway,
Around bare branches fading shrine.

In endless gleam of sun so pale,
Averted from the longing death,
Carnations scent, so bright and hale,
She staggers back to life's last breath.

There, where light falls veilly thin,
Enveloped in the darkest night,
A whisper of peace softly spins,
A distant melody, a laugh still light.

In whispers of transience frail,
Unfolds the delicacy of a strand,
That through time carries without fail,
The warmth a set of hands prevails.

And in life's chaos, heavy dire,
A spark of hope ignites within,
Thus moments so deeply inspire,
That life’s enchantment does begin.

© fey (23/04/24)

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)

there were once two friends,
while the one lacked of love
the other felt it too deep
so it burned him out
and he was incomplete.

two sides of a coin and yet
two kindred spirits indeed
the one holding too tight
the other fading in light speed
to a place of constant night
she could not visit.

Despite their differences, both were lost in the slumber of the unknown
she was too eager too find something, uncertain that she was outgrown
of the feeling, she eternally longed

he, on the contrary, wanted those feelings to vanish,
the once tender and gentle touch
had left him famished
there was not a single thing sating his everlasting hunger,
so he wandered aimlessly,
attacking and devouring anything that
soothed the wild and angry hunter.

there were once two friends,
both were tricked by love,
in similiar
and different ways.

© fey (28/02/20)

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 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)

is it a tender embrace
or more like a blazing storm?
The feeling everyone craves,
including myself,
called "love".

in many stories and myths it seems
to be the one and only impression
one would describe as a pleasent dream,
so fierce and full of undisclosed passion.

but I am certain, quiet eager even
that I won't gather any experience
because "love" these days means treason,
lust, greed and above all

self-indulgent obedience.

I would rather idealize it forever,
to remain an ignorant and loveless bystander.

© fey (24/02/20)