I bleed like Vanilla.
Why is he not here to lick my leaking soul?
My leaking soul that loses sweet daydreams everywhere it goes as small drops of joy turning into a sea to drown in.
Why aren‘t his eyes, his lips, his hands closer to the hole that opened up, that his presence opened up. Leaking out so sweet for eyes, and hands, and a presence too sweet to ever hurt enough to stop it from surviving the horrors he inflicted.
Your witch is bleeding vanilla.
Opening up her leaking soul.
Having her dreams drop out.
Drink from me, or one of us is going to drown.
The latest Dystopia confusion – or what vaccines, glasses, and sunscreen suddenly have in common.
Confusion is one of the most important aspects of Dystopia. It’s this state of the world that keeps burning into the skin like a nervous flickering – and suddenly you’ve bought frog legs from the weirdo at the end of the road, while your neighbour was hanged for a miscarriage 20 years ago. Let’s name…
Keeping the connection – About taking the next step
I remember standing on the same field where I spent most of the past unnerving months. Listening to the same three accords throughout a song reminded me of time passing, of the feeling of spending time with people while doing something special together. Studying for an exam, rehearsing a song, going on a trip -…
Of memories and ashes
Once you were thereTwo minutes afterWith coffee and rainI will rememberThe way that we wereThe world has felt whole. Once we were thereIt was a ThursdayWith tea and a smileI will always rememberIt made me forgetThat the world has got holes. I want this to beThe one thingTo hold on toTo fill up the holesWe…
Mistress witch writes 
One thought on “A leaking soul”