„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.
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 
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