Having you
All I want and need
Petrichor in the air
Playing the devil with my love, you sinner
Infinities before us
Nemeses – I defeated them all
Evanescent beauty with age; growing love
Surreptitious gazes and love
S**cintillas of a lunatic love tainting this happiness.

I lapsed my opportunity on loving you, and now I am all alone.

Ich habe Fernweh nach dem Ort an dem du gerade bist, und Heimweh nach dem Platz in deinem Herzen.
Ich liebe den Himmel, und ich wünschte ich wäre das Firmament über dir, egal ob hinter Wolken versteckt oder mit den Gestirnen geschmückt, denn dann würde ich dich immer sehen und immer bei dir seien.
Jedoch könnte ich dich nie berühren, von da oben.
Vielleicht wäre es besser, der Boden zu seien. Du legst dich in mein warmes Gras und atmest meinen Duft ein, nach einem Regenschauer, und würdest dabei lächeln. Aber als der Boden, würdest du mich je bemerken? Und wenn ja, würdest du nicht nur auf mich herabsehen?
Das würde ich nicht überleben, wir sind alle aus Sternenstaub, und besonders in der Liebe gleich.
Aber wenn du mir diese drei Worte ins Ohr flüsterst oder sie mir ins Gesicht schreist, dann ist es eh egal. Denn dann steht alles auf dem Kopf, am Himmel ist das Wasser der Meere und ich schwimme durch Wolken. Ich gehe über Federn, und das Federkleid der Vögel besteht aus Gras.
So ist es, zumindest in meinem Kopf, jedes Mal nachdem du mein Herz mit den Schmetterlingen, die du in meinem Bauch ausgesetzt hast, erschütterst hast.

Starry night, over the
hills, I am mourning my youth,
watching comets fall.

Sometimes I look at the things surrounding me in a different way.
Then I see the positive things in my dark past.
It hits me like nostalgia without the hint of melancholia.
More positive, like the way I want my life to be.
I appreciate my past, because even if it was bad most of the time, I still learned from it, my how I learned from it, and learning is positive.
Mistakes were made, some were bad, some happened to be "happy accidents".

And maybe if you have the time, I tell you about all the things that were positive in my past, about all the things of my past that I found worthy of being appreciated.
Come, Darling, let's appreciate our pasts.

The colour I see in… perfect darkness?
In german we call it Eigengrau. It's beautiful name for such a colour, and a beautiful colour for our eyes.
It's a colour that takes everything away, turns it into nothing, giving you everything.
Sounds strange, like a paradox, you might think now.
Maybe, probably, most likely it is like that.
"Nachts sind alle Katzen grau.", is also something we Germans tend to say. All cats are grey in the dark; meaning that in the night, everyone is the same, we can not tell them apart anymore.
So the beautiful colour, a noun, called *Eigengrau" basically makes us all the same.
Sometimes I wish we would always see other people in Eigengrau, because then, even the last of them would realize that we are all the same, no matter which religion, sexuality, etc. we have.

When I'm on a cliff, I have the l'appel du vide; the unexplainable strong desire to jump off that certain cliff.
However, you, you would rather jump into conclusions and push me off the cliff.

I'm trying to give you an optimistic view, when you give me your pessimistic thoughts.

It's said that hate and love are felt in the same region of the brain – and I get the feeling that my love towards you is the fountainhead of the hate you have towards me.

I try to keep you alive, but you betray me with your paramour; death.



I realized that we are like Yin and Yang. I'm the light to keep your darkness alive and your the darkness that keeps my light shining. It might be hard sometimes, but our differences are our similarities.

We are a paradox, soulmates connected with a twisted string of fate, which is stained red by the blood from my heart and the blood from your wrists.
I'm your life, your love and – maybe even your paramour death.

It's an illness, and what a wicked one. It lasts five stages. Through four stages it tortures you the best it can. It tortures you with nostalgia and melancholia. I will tell you about these four stages, until you finally reach the fifth and last stage, the stage that will feel like redemption to you. Brace yourself, this illness can **** before you reach the final stage.

Stage 1, denial / delusion
In this stage, you will deny what happened, and will live in a fantasy your poor mind created for you to keep you alive.
You know exactly what has happened, you know the truth. However, this hideous creature, this torturous illness won't let you "get over" the truth that easily. It will torture you with false hopes, wrecking your mind because each and every night, you will wonder if what has happened was real or just a bad nightmare of yours.

If you made it, be lucky for a second. Stage 2 is awaiting you.

Stage 2, wrath
In this stage, you will feel an ager, a rage you never felt before. You will have the urge to destroy and to burn, not only things, but also you, the memories, and just everything and everyone surrounding you.
The illness wants to destroy you, and it gives you ire so you can "prepare" yourself for what will come for you. Destruction in the finest, most painful ways, you can't even imagine.

You survived Stage 2, now let's take a look on how desperate you can become in Stage 3.

Stage 3, negotiating
In this stage, your desperateness to wipe the slate clean will show. The illness makes you parley with the wildest, most unreal people you may meet in your life, only to undo what has happened.
You would sell your sould to the devil.
You would give your life to the Grim Reaper.
You would… You might even want to make a deal with me.

I think we should stop about what you would, it might get to horrendous for you. So we reach Stage 4, the stage that has the highest verisimilitude to **** you.

Stage 4, depression
You will cry waterfalls of tears, so be careful that you don't drown in the sea of hot, salty water your ever so beautiful eyes created.
This stage of torture is where the illness got quite creative. I'm sure you heard a lot about depression, but in reality it is even worse than the worst you expected. It might feel unreal from time to time, but I tell you, it is real – savagely real.
It might **** you, so try your best to survive this stage. That's the only admonition I can give you.

You survived? Congratulations! Hereby we reach

Stage 5, acceptance
In this stage, the final stage, you finally reach the redemption you craved for so long. You will finally be able to leave behind what has downed you so much. You will be able to fly again, your wings are back.
However, be careful. This stage is the shortest of them all.

Many people before you have failed before reaching this salvific stage.
I hope you won't underestimate the illness. You might have reached redemption, but it only waits to strike again and to devour you.

Be careful, even for I will watch over you.

Schule du Monster,
verbrauchen tust du mich sehr
– ich will nur leben.

Endlich wieder Sonne spüren,
und das Gras unter meinen Füßen fühlen.

Endlich wieder in der Luft,
wunderbar zarter Blumenduft.

Endlich wieder bunte Farben,
heilen meine Winternarben.

Endlich wieder warme Tage,
und nur eine Frage:

Endlich wieder mit dir sein,
hier im warmen Sonnenschein?

If I add
tons of words
just to make me seem special
will I be special in your eyes?

Designer,
Photographer,
Model, Traveller,
and whatever.

Will
all these words
catch your eyes,
catch your ears,
make you recognize me?

Will this
facade
become a truth
one day?

If only
I can make
you believe in all
these pretty lies?

We are all made of stardust; and you are my favourite constellation.

You are like a dream, but you are reality, even though my memory of you is fading, slowly turning you in a dream.

Your hair is as black as the night, and I want to pull it like the grass of the meadows. I swam through the seven seas, but I will always drown in your eyes. But I must not be afraid. For your eyes also hold the stars, guiding me through the dark. Your skin so pale, it reminds me of the moon. Your lips so soft, but please graze my skin with them, make me feel a small death, so I know how it feels like when I really have to go one day.
Hold me, hug me, so that the pieces of me find back together. And then fill the dainty flaws with the gold of your love

When I see shooting stars or when the clock strikes 11:11, I wish for you, and only you. Because I can change the problems of the world with my own hands, but when it comes to my own problems, I need divine help.

Is it the brontide or just the beating of my heart?
Is it the wind who grazes my body or is it you?
Am I drowning in the sea or just in your eyes once again?
Is it an eartquake or just the butterflies in my stomach that want to be free?
Is it the ugly truth or just a beautiful lie?
Am I the hero or the villain of this story?
Are you the villain or the hero of our story?
Am I the light or just the darkness to let yours shine?
Are you the darkness or the light that diminishes my darkness?
Is my heart following my head or my head following my heart?
Am I free or caged?                                                                (in your embrace)
Have I lost myself or found myself?                                   (in this lovelife)

Too many thoughts, too many questions in my head for me to answer now. I might answer them later… when I'm not grim with loving you.

The spoon in my cup is hot, but I don't burn myself on it, contrarily to you, I always burn my fingers on you.

The light from outside is coloured in a soft blue, I'm drinking hot potables to dispel the cold inside of me that stayed after you went away.

I'm listening to Debussy's Claire de Lune and it remembers me of you – beautiful yet so incredibly sad…

How will you love me when you are not even willing to love yourself?

Not all those who wander are lost, but I surely am.
Though I'm still not sure if I'm lost in this city or in the depths of your eyes.
And I'm drunk– whether it's on love or on alcohol, I'm not so sure anymore. But that's not what matters right now.
On my way of finding myself I'm actually trying to find you.
I could swim through the seven seas without exertion, but I'm drowning in your eyes just like that.
I write love letters, poems and sinfonias to you in my head, but I could never do in reality, for I don't even know your adress nor your adress.
You're the firmament above my head, when I look at the Gestirne above me I find myself gazing at your eyes.
And I wonder, I wonder, what could, should, would have been if…
And so I keep wandering, being lost, truly lost in melancholia and thoughts, wanting to get lost in your eyes; wanting to find myself in your heart, wanting to fix my broken soul with the golden love that, I hope, is awaiting me.