Vanilla scented horror, when she‘s dying.
What to do, when out of daydreams?
Unable to wish for things, to dream.
When the world has turned into something.
Something that does not require us.
But inside we still exist.
I am barely a person anymore, because I‘ve been vibrating too much on that last frequency, so that no light would ever break itself on my shape.
What to do, when missing something.
Something like a violet sparkle.
And now that it‘s gone, the world has turned gray.
Turned into gray silhouettes,
that now and then remind of something,
and play pictures of the past,
all over empty walls to stare at.
I wish it were deadly enough to kill me instantly, so that I could go to one last party, have one last kiss and then hide deep in the forest to die.
She was a part of us, you know?
A part with a certain sparkle.
A sparkle all over us.
With round eyes and freckles.
A part that needed to be loved,
that flamed up when his hands were close,
his thoughts all over our skin.
Vanilla scented horror, when she‘s dying.
Why I am not a nice girl
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Intimate tale
I yearn for those moments,When I existedsolelyin your eyes.When I wasnothingBut an image causingCuriosity.I lived in those momentsWhen you knewNothingAbout the scarsBetween myThighs.Moments that werePure and softAnd kept mySecretWithout anyFalsity.In those momentsI felt loveFor all the thingsYou mustn’tKnow.All the thingsWent looseWithin myHeadAnd found their wayOnto myTongue.I still amThese momentsWhen I hadYouAnd you deniedThe thingsI wanted…
The tale of mental health in a burning world
“Wanna feel better?”, my witch asks me as she presents tonight’s options. Do we want to get drunk and risk a headache? Do we want to try out yoga again although we’ve never managed to take it seriously? Do we want to escape the last traces of reality by watching a sitcom and ignoring the…
Mistress witch writes 
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