What makes a person, Layla?
Is it two arms and legs,
and eyes to see,
and a voice to speak with,
and blood to spill?
Maybe, he saw me as a person.
He did not see
that all I ever did was vibrating
on that very last frequency
that was left by better days.
He saw me as one,
but I think I‘m not a person anymore.
He saw me as a person,
when he touched those
arms and hands
and lips and breasts
and never realized that there was blood to spill.
Maybe,
I have been breaking myself into 100 unheard frequencies
and through those veins
in arms and legs
and lips and breasts
runs blood burned up
by just another witching dream.
There was another one
that saw the flames
and felt them
running in this blood
and touched those
arms and hands
and lips and breasts
and knew.
„Maybe, I‘m a witch“, I say.
Layla nods. „I wanted a world in which I could have been his witch“, she says, as she attempts to cook a violet cloud.
My witching autumn desk
This was my longest quiet. My witch took a few weeks off. I have a lot of things to say, dark and urgent things! But my health made me pause everything. The first time in my life I’m saying that. I’ll be back in the next few days! Until then, enjoy the witching mood at…
Why do we stop doing things?
“When for health reasons we stop being ourselves, what is left then? ”, I complain to my witch just when the cold and dark season is ready to arrive. I am usually decorating a cake when the message I am dreading arrives. The pastry bag in hand, I read one cancellation after another. Of course,…
When we fall …
Who’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us all?Who’ll be thereIn the end? Late at nightI hear his voiceAnd I know thatHe waved her goodbyeThrough the noiseOf a world turning away. Laughter fromA window aboveBlurry lightsAnd I know thatShe gave upon loveRight there. And I wonderWho’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us…
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