There‘s a dot on the left side, that‘s a bit bigger than the other dots around.
Its borders are rounder.
It plays with the light and the shadows at the heads of the smaller ones.
This one is called out-of-breath.
There is a really small one on the opposite side.
This one is mostly ignored by light and shadow,
and even by me sometimes,
except when there is this pressure building behind my eyes,
because I first found it when I was drowning.
With eyes not seeing other living things anymore,
I stare at the other scratches and marks and scores,
and wonder what else to find within this wallpaper,
while having eyes too sad to see and too tense to close.
A friend once told me that he named the dots making up the wall that he had been staring at.
I did not completely recognize mine as company.
But I have the big one to stare at whenever I‘m choking,
and a small one that I find a second before my vision is blurring.
There‘s a mark that my view follows when an old memory makes me laugh,
and a scratch that means fear of falling down into darkness again.
The staring at the wall only ever ends when my witch awakens and hands me a hot chocolate to replace the wine.
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 