„The horror of having a body is that of hoping for it to last long enough to fulfill the dream within the head“, I tell my witch over our midnight tea.
Let us cook the blood out of these sheets
and season it
with kisses and with tears.
In a world made of last times
let us ask for
just another time.
Because one day this body
will break
and there will be no skin
for you to touch
and no shoulder
and no chest
for you to rest your head upon
and breathe.
If not for this one moment to be felt
and for Dystopia love
to be fulfilled
then what was this body
even made for?
Just for
skin to burn
and blood to clot
and flesh to ache?
„In a world made of last times, let‘s ask for just another time“, my witch agreed with me and for a moment it soothed the sensation of falling apart, and I hoped that it would keep me together long enough to make it for just another moment.
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 