„Have you ever wished for all of it to never have happened?“, I ask my witch as we change our scented candles from summer‘s garden flower to autumn‘s cinnamon, and Layla smiles wickedly sad.
Being broken means laying scattered
as pieces ready to be taken
and be put together
for just another attempt.
I threw my heart out
and I forgot the shock of pain
so focused on the light
I forgot the fear the dark.
I trust you
because I‘m leaking
and I know that you are too.
Please leak onto me
leak it all out to me
and please don‘t ever stop.
The darkness must never win.
„You crying gets closer and closer to oil painting style“, my witch giggles.
Because it turns into tales worth remembering?
Let‘s hope so.
Otherwise, getting up over and over again is fucking exhausting for nothing.
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 