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.
I wish I’d told you all my stories.
I want to tell you all my storiesIt’s not that they would changeIt’s just that I would likeTo see themFormA new expressionOn your face I need to tell you all my storiesI am not sureIf they makeSenseThe way I thoughtThey do. I will tell you all my storiesThey frighten meI’m sure you won’t endureI see…
Dealing with darkness in writing
This spring afternoon is glowing pink and tastes like strong tea. It feels much too familiar, and I begin to open up.I feel far away from myself as I start to talk, to babble on about my novel. About all the things I’ve been reading about in the past 5 years. About the 17th century,…
Radical witching novel rewrites at 4 AM!
I wore the same night dress my witch used to wear to get drunk on my windowsill, when I suddenly had an idea at 4 AM. Great ideas always happen at 4 AM, remember? This one however, kept me awake for at least a week, debating it back and forth. At some point my witch…
Mistress witch writes 
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