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.
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 