I lie in meter-high snow
like a ghost
my hair is drenched,
my vision blurred,
my eyes are closed
white crystals all over
the reddish coat
the black veil swallows
my cold breath
Oh, winter wonderland

She haunts souls
In abandoned voices
Witnessing stories
In fragile minds

In the midst of dust
Words are lying
She gathers them all
To cure the blind

She longs for the whole
And gifts the world
With stories unheard
From left behinds

we will count the stars
tonight,
even if the sky is
veiled by bitter dust
he is just the same
as you and me,
an emotionally neglected
living being
fed by the
hungry eyes of
little, unlined people
who are willing
to give

It‘s four a.m. ,
my lungs still breathe
you in and out
and my heart still aches
for yours

The cold broke in
And we forgot
How it felt
To look into
Summer skies

All the brightness of the sun cannot
take my desire
to run my fingers through
the blue flame
how magnificent my hair burns,
and how magical this ease
with which my whole is being consumed
by you, reddish wolverine
you own me, I am thine

i still dream of you,
good old oak,
from day one.
the seasons change,
and I still picture you
standing there,
under the golden sun;

and one day,
I‘ll rush headlong
into your opened arms.
But for now, you‘re
just another
perfectly written,
but unsung song;

I promise you,
one day I‘ll come
to see you there,
ten miles away,
under the golden sun.
I’m waiting, patiently,
for my grief to be gone

Fires
Tornados
Reckless behaviours
Wars
And scars
See, that‘s our world

And don‘t forget
That people are dying
Day for day
From illness
And pain
Because they have been put
Into deadly chains

I, with barely opened eyes
see, how your atrocious glory spies
through the half-opened window
  but my paltry, languid soul calls for rest,
  in her old and weathered skin,
  and would she sway in the wind,
  she for sure would loose herself
god, close the curtains and let me dream
I need to sleep, sleep, sleep

above all echos,  
here I stand
with spread arms
it took me long to realise
I am strong
I overcame sysiphus
now here I stand
convincing myself
that it was faith
that led me here
to the hills of serendipity

it isn‘t until you tear up again
that you remember the nights
where you have slept
shattered on the cold wooden floor

these moments where you
have begged the moon for
forgiveness and sleep

desperately trying not to
fall through the roof of the
room under yours

you try shutting down but
the memories flush against you
knocking you down like a tsunami
and you know that you will
never, never feel whole again

i am dying in the moonlight
suffocating in all the dust
my mother left behind

Blood is freezing
in blazing veins
Fog enveloping the
empty shell of mine
Please, do not cry
it‘s a natural process
Ancient bodies are
fading over time

I feel as if the sky with all its shades of blue
and all its different clouds
is some sort of weighted blanket.
And sometimes
this huge layer wraps around me, carefully, almost as to make sure I’m okay,
before it suffocates me with invisible mist.

This inhuman behavior of not knowing
where to exist
put your feet outside
never come in again
stay outside, where the danger waits
come inside, feel the warmth of your family
sit and stay, go away
nowhere to go, restless feet
where am I able to exist?

I drew a painting
of us two
believing it wasn‘t
only blind fate
leading us trough
wrathful waves

I waited for you. for you!
now dust has put me to bed
and kissed me ten goodbyes,
dead cells surround the dead,
they sang me lullabies.
It almost feels like home,
yes I’m the queen now in the hive-
were I not homeless,
waiting for you, for you! my life.

with red cheeks
you hold the guns
like brushes in your hand
and in two silent seconds
you paint your brain on the wall

(and start to run)

We collide
when thoughts connect
We bond through
the gravity of words
And when we hold
each other
Our atoms seem
to touch

the wind pulls at me
and I am surrounded
by whispering voices
something digs its claws
into my heart, churlishly
oh within it lurks
the mighty power of death,
and I too burn for its desire

how I crave for
this kind of destruction
call me the fire of the wind
for I will give it all my light

winter is knocking at your door
and you have forgotten how to welcome a long lost friend.
your fourteen-year-old bones are rattling, your feet are cold and you want to slam your head against the wall.
winter is looking through your kitchen window and you are six years old again and hide under the dark brown piano. winter has come to remind you of your darkest dreams, but you close your eyes and cannot be seen anymore (you are now four years old). you want to dream yourself away like you always have, escaping into worlds of blooming tulips and slow dances. winter is knocking at your door, so you make hot chocolate for two and decide to say hello (you are nineteen, and you have learned how to survive).

my ash shall
go with the wind
a pinch over the coastline
and the residue
over the weeping grass
light the fire in the sky
and I will be fine

your lips tasted
like bittersweet hell

and now I’m burning
like a glorious fire
as if I couldn‘t feel pain