A demon needs all the functions of a witching body. They need it more than anything else in the universe. They need its flesh to drown in fluid, and its fluids to be the sea, ready to rise in a storm.
A demon needs the witch to follow their demands for simple things, such as picking up a cookie with those bodily hands, putting it onto lips colored by the blood pulsating through them, and into the witch‘s playful mouth. The demon needs the witch to swallow, and for the bodily fluids and forces to work with the input and present a result in rose cheeks, smooth skin and other vital products.
A demon needs the witch to give in to their demand and do it, so that they can observe and witness and be a part of things they themselves are not granted to have.
Because, the demons their angelic bodies fallen out of grace have no bodily ability to live life as full as their darkness would ever demand.
That is why they need their witches and their bodies able to swallow, and bleed, and spill.
„This blog post is dedicated to my favourite part of 14th century sources on witchcraft that tried to prove that Jesus never had to take a shit ever“, I try to sing in the sweet voice of my witch and she giggles.
„You‘re getting better“, she admits and steals another early Christmas cookie from me. „And better write down that we both have real bodies with real metabolism, or people 2000 years from will disprove that!“
My witching autumn desk
This was my longest quiet. My witch took a few weeks off. I have a lot of things to say, dark and urgent things! But my health made me pause everything. The first time in my life I’m saying that. I’ll be back in the next few days! Until then, enjoy the witching mood at…
Why do we stop doing things?
“When for health reasons we stop being ourselves, what is left then? ”, I complain to my witch just when the cold and dark season is ready to arrive. I am usually decorating a cake when the message I am dreading arrives. The pastry bag in hand, I read one cancellation after another. Of course,…
When we fall …
Who’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us all?Who’ll be thereIn the end? Late at nightI hear his voiceAnd I know thatHe waved her goodbyeThrough the noiseOf a world turning away. Laughter fromA window aboveBlurry lightsAnd I know thatShe gave upon loveRight there. And I wonderWho’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us…
