„I want to live so much, it makes me want to die“, I tell my witch as we sit on a field covered in dust on the longest evening of the year.
I want
the rain to touch my soul
the lights to burn my thoughts
and dreams to escape into beyond.
I want
to live to taste your lips
like strawberries and cream at night
and a sparkle on our skin.
Sometimes
I want death to touch me
only gentle for a second
so that I will breathe in deeper.
I am a witch.
I close my eyes
and scream on the inside.
But at least I am still screaming.
„That‘s a thing about losing your hold in this world for a moment of Dystopia“, my witch responds. „It might feel so intense, you never want to find something to hold you back again.”
Why I am not a nice girl
I am not your nice, Christian girl next door, as you might have noticed. And this is not a role I play for this blogging project, or to promote my writing and music. This is me, and I stick to it, even when it gets complicated, and believe me: It becomes an issue more often…
Intimate tale
I yearn for those moments,When I existedsolelyin your eyes.When I wasnothingBut an image causingCuriosity.I lived in those momentsWhen you knewNothingAbout the scarsBetween myThighs.Moments that werePure and softAnd kept mySecretWithout anyFalsity.In those momentsI felt loveFor all the thingsYou mustn’tKnow.All the thingsWent looseWithin myHeadAnd found their wayOnto myTongue.I still amThese momentsWhen I hadYouAnd you deniedThe thingsI wanted…
The tale of mental health in a burning world
“Wanna feel better?”, my witch asks me as she presents tonight’s options. Do we want to get drunk and risk a headache? Do we want to try out yoga again although we’ve never managed to take it seriously? Do we want to escape the last traces of reality by watching a sitcom and ignoring the…
Mistress witch writes 