Lately, all I am able to think during long and surreal nights are words my witch might have screamed on one of her many potential death beds, when blood was flooding her and still there were all these memories of moments that never were.
„I want to live
to taste your lips
and sometimes
I want death
to touch my soul
for me
to breathe in deeper.
I want to live
to feel this skin
soft in your hands
to hear this voice
sweet in your ears.
I want to live
to feel this sparkle
one more time
just one more time
it‘s always
one more time
for this hungering hope
outlives a body
and a soul
ripped apart.
„Will there really always be words like this to scream?“, I ask my witch. „Or can we die in peace after all?“
My witch giggles. „Some can, but I feel like we don‘t.“
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 