„I‘m waiting for my vanilla scented candle to be replaced by you.“
By all of you.
Your sweat and blood.
Your skin turned red beneath my fingertips.
I want your shape to leave a trace on my existing.
I want to taste, to swallow and inhale your being.
Please stop hiding them and let me bite your lips.
Have my sweet spot.
It’s here for you.
I want to lick your leaking soul.
„It‘s so unfair when cute boys keep hiding behind their mask and die before you squeezed the hell out of them“, my witch giggled into another winter night.
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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