Surviving Dystopia
Surviving the bearing of a heart,
an oh! – so beating heart.
Surviving means
it is still beating,
and Dystopia means,
it bears dark things.
Waves of horror
and waves of agony
when second for second
and minute for minute
through eternity after always
the heart asks for things
this world no longer displays.
Until the skin
burned up in desire
once tickled and flooded
with warmth from the inside
will break open
and tell for itself
that there is no place left
for all that still is
burried alive on the inside.
Constantly asking the universe
where to go next
where to put
these thoughts, these feelings
these things left inside
that do not have
a right to be
anymore.
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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