won my love with a joker card,
halfway through the graveyard of my heart.

© fey (12/07/23)

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

© fey (01/03/20)

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)

Alone in the city of love,
the sky sleeps under the cheekbones of stars
and night lights illuminate
the sunken hope of touch-starved hearts.

© fey (09/08/23)

Alone in the city of melancholy,
I feel the street sides smoldering my hazy eyelids.
At night the moons of lanterns touch me only marginally
and wing cracked moths circle the illuminated edges of the panel building's decayed balcony -
gentle; endlessly.
Infinite depths of gray beneath the stone canyon skin
of 1980's asphalt-wrinkled face of my ardently antagonized Berlin.

© fey (17/08/23)

Fairytales deliver less and less
the wry lovelorn's real wretchedness.

Whereas reality never competes
with a fairytale's alluring heartbeat.

© fey (19/06/22)

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)

Today I caught a glimpse of cold,
accumulating through
a summer blazing's green-leafed hue.

In yonder search of gently swaying thunders
briscle scents of cozily wafting coffee wonders,
where rain collides and scorching light draws circles.

From where autumnal yearning lurks,
different nuances of gentle fingertips return,
directing grim muses to go berserk.

© fey (05/07/23)

you should see me now,
dancing alone in my room,
moves as sharp as a violin bow,
a young lunatic in its full bloom.

with my fleeting interests
comics on my lap and jazz
gently displaying my awkwardness.

daredevil, deadpool and spidermann,
my only friends, well and also shazam.
okay, jokes aside, it fitted the rhyme,
dc is actually not really my choice of style.

except batman.
he is as cool as ... maybe japan?
definitely not as cool as japan.
[really not.]

© fey (25/09/19)

as fleeting as a coelacanth
and made of tender amaranth,
in jaded hues of pale rosé,
the day's frail beauty soon decays.

to capture the grace of flaming dusk,
one has to peel dawn's unyielding husk.
a barely visible wonderland,
never to stay but never to end.

© fey (31/12/19)

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)

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)

On a rustic bench there laid
a single cat of dire age.
Between lushful green she gazed
longingly into the distance - as if
far away she would catch a glimpse
of home to reside in irides of an amber lynx.

© fey (05/06/22)

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)

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)

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)

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

© fey (08/12/20)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

Summer's surrealness -
a dragonfly in space,
stars aligned in perfectly circled shapes.

Craving the tingling
foreboding sense of of cold -
burning fingertips, auburn smoke.

Autumn's delight - fiery
colorfulness, adorning
the piny mountainside.

© fey (24/07/22)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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

Mori no naka
natsukashii ame
hana de shinu.

© fey  (27/11/19)

Have you ever seen the rain?
Amidst the mossy caverns light,
No pain among the insane’s plight,
Imprinting silvery vervain,
Have you ever seen the rain?

Falling softly, washing pain,
Through whispers of the trees decay,
Under the gentle stars anew,
With pleas serene, a lasting hue.
Have you ever felt the rain?

Kissing cheeks with no disdain,
A soothing touch, a cool embrace,
In its realm no harm, no pain,
Have you ever felt the rain?

It cleanses wounds that lie within,
Bewitching souls, a gentle kin,
And as it falls, a symphony unfolds,
Of nature's orchestra, with stories untold.

Have you ever heard the rain?
Its melodic chorus, a sweet refrain?
A lullaby for restless souls,
Guiding them with peaceful notes.
Have you ever heard the rain?

It murmurs secrets to the earth,
Of rebirth, life, and unknown mirth,
And in its cadence, a sacred art,
The rhythm of life, a beating heart.

So, have you ever seen the rain?
Gracefully mundane in its reign,
For in its tears, there's wisdom deep,
That even storms lay you to sleep.

© fey (17/04/24)

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)

It's a quiet autumn where
your footsteps were felt last.
A cool breeze blows through
the emptiness of a concaved ribcage nest,
where once a summer boldly raged
and now the snowless winter takes its rest.

© fey (03/09/23)

In shadows deep where moonlight wanes,
Where whispers dance in eerie strains,
There prowls a creature of the night,
With eyes aglow, a chilling sight.

Amongst the hibiscus, crimson blooms,
Their petals soaked in midnight gloom,
A vampire lurks, his thirst unbound,
In silence, stalking without a sound.

He yearns for blood, a crimson stream,
A haunting echo, a silent scream,
And in the garden, where hibiscus weep,
His hunger stirs from slumber's keep.

Yet amidst the darkness, a delicate grace,
The hibiscus blooms, a fragile embrace,
Their beauty rivals the moon's soft glow,
A stark contrast to the vampire's woe.

For in their petals, life's essence lies,
A crimson hue beneath starlit skies,
But to the vampire, they hold no cure,
Just reminders of what he must endure.

So in the night, where shadows creep,
The vampire hunts, his hunger deep,
And though the hibiscus may wilt and fade,
Their beauty lingers in the darkness, unswayed.

© fey (24/04/24)

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 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 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 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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

And I was gentle
on my empty meadow,
as they took away
all the kindness I had.

© fey (31/05/23)

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)

your sheepish smile resides
inbetween coffee stained book pages.

pearl-white row of teeth abide,
as those lips linger on the rim of forgotten faces.

© fey (14/07/23)

The summer light does not touch me.
It shines in delicate rivers on the brightly polished stairs,
where the gelatieri stroll with sweet iced coffee,
unimagined, oblivious.

The summer light does not touch me.
It brushes the children, who - in growing flocks -
chime their laughter atop neighbor's doors with delicate knocks;
bell-bright bicycle bells ringing.

The summer light does not touch me.
Twenty-three forty-four; peripheral car brake light coming forth.
The first leaf sonorously breathes “Goodbye; I'll leave”
and at last it creeps up, a swift cold touch -
the autumnal welcoming committee for my July melancholy.

© fey (24/07/22)

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)

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)

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)