this gentle sting between us

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——- Es ist ein seltsames Konzept oder Verfahren
all diese Dimensionen von Sinnen und Geschmäckern und Texturen und Instinkten und großen Emotionen in kleine Worte zu fassen und auf der anderen Seite herauszukommen, nicht kleiner, nicht weniger aber fast mehr, auf die eine oder andere Weise transzendiert.

Genuss.

Die Reinheit die ich an diesem winterlichen Morgen fühlte, als die Luft klar und klirrend kalt war und die Morgensonne in ihrer vollen Pracht auf das Fenster fiel. Ich liebte es, wie mich dieser Moment so hart traf wie das Licht auf das Fensterglas, und bei mir blieb und damit dieses Gefühl einer Repräsentation von etwas, das so nahe an meinem Herzen liegt. Erste Liebe, Intimität, wie entsetzlich köstlich es war, wie schmackhaft schmerzhaft. Nichts daran war so ideal wie es sich anhört, es war eine Zeit voll von herausfinden und daran scheitern. Es hat mir in vielerlei Hinsicht den Atem geraubt, unerwartet. Aber dieser Morgen war Zusammengehörigkeit, eingefangen von meinem Auge, meiner Anbetung, meines Auges, des Blickes… und das sagte mir etwas. Sie sprach mit mir, diese Atmosphäre, zeigte mir mich, uns, Lust; 
Unsere Wertschätzung füreinander lag in der Luft, leicht zu fassen, roch nach Hoffnung und Halleluja.

Tragik und Vergnügen. Wollen und Konsequenzen. ——

Fluch des neugierigen Schattens                

Fantasy. The less I want to be affected by it, the more it infects me. Invades me.
Makes me feel funky, kind and kinky, a cursed blessing
Some things need to be thrown up and out
and around
poisonous antidote, tasty
Do you feel nauseous? 

This alienation, this estrangement 
feels disgusting to me,
it makes my skin crawl, it does things to me.

Perhaps we woke each other up
`Good moaning`

Soft screaming, Slow rush 
Tender grip, Waking up 
Warm bodies touch surrounded by cold air 
It’s winter, but the sun is there
Shining, reminding me of birth and life 
Lighter breath, pupils adjust
Limbs are moving tangled up
Reacting affection, reconnecting and resurrection 
Contracting muscles 
Hands and legs and hips
twisting loosening grooving
In deep relaxation 
we are ecstasy 
The joy of the mornings
Moaning ‘good morning’ 
The mess of the sheets, the mess of the hair, the smell of coffee in the air

In those moments, those mornings
We are in our own world, that created itself
we can’t hide in it
Anymore, any longer, now
we are bright and glittering mirrors 
Showing each other unwanted, uncomfortable truths 
You try to look away, but no one can escape these stains
They are 
Too obvious 
Too clear 
Fingerprints 
Toothpaste 
Spit 
And dust
Sometimes lust succeeds and you press me against the mirror 
Willingly
We add more fingerprints
There is this gentle sting between us

duendita – i’ma get you        Unknown Mortal Orchestra – Multi-Love (Official Music Video)      Venus X “RENEGADE BERBERSE”/ VIDEO BY DONA

 Want & consequence

Forgetting and remembering. The theatre of the absurd. 
There’s always been this restlessness.
I’m taking a long time to liberate myself,
like ‘Into The Wild’, but make it out alive.

I wake with a stinging sensation in my chest area
I feel like something needs to get out
so I exhale, clear my throat, not enough
I sigh, then I cough
I stand up brush my teeth and my tongue, spit into the sink,
Shit, still not enough
I shower, cleanse my body
Maybe I need some water, hydration, an orgasm?
I shake my body
I twist my spine, stretch the limbs, another sigh
but this
whatever this is, persists
I sing
I scream, just for fun
I cry some tears, address some fears
I jump up and down like a clown
I growl as this gets increasingly uncomfortable
it happens a lot
that things get stuck
within my blood
or genes. at least since my teens
and way before it was in my core
but what’s that inside my chest
What is it now?

Finally I take my pen and write. I fight myself, but I write 
and I continue to do so the next day and week.

Ideas penetrate my mind, impregnate my brain 
or soul
or something.

Pleasure is so subjective. a matter of taste
Some enjoy sex, some don’t
Some enjoy coffee, some don’t
Some enjoy rain, some don’t, some sun, ..
—
Aside from taste, there are blockages
Often conditioned thoughts that get in the way
of joy of pleasure
We are reminded
Why we shouldn’t
Maybe
are not worth it
don’t deserve it
What else we should and must do to deserve it
This creates addiction and withdrawal
An eternal struggle for many
Excessive enjoyment is not good, is addictive?
Pleasure shortage destroys, makes you independent?
A culture obsessed with independence
Out of fear of addiction
Runs directly into its arms 
—
Pleasure feels so personal so ego-based, deep down it’s survival. Antidote to depression. Antidote to the pressure. It’s a delicate matter.
—
I enjoy raw mushrooms (as long as they are not poisonous), broccoli,
Raw thoughts, raw feelings
Without filter
Raw risk when it comes to love

Chega de saudade João Gilberto

?
Death
Funeral
My relatives ask me if I have an identity crisis
Don’t I always 
Did I hide it better before
Here they are, the same questions
I mean I can tell you about how I’m losing my mind
Hopefully getting to know my soul a little better
I am very honest
There’s no way around it my body just does it 
My mouth filled with authenticity 
Not swallowed
Chewed up
And spit out
Sometimes I lie 
from time to time
It’s hard to face yourself + reality 
when you’re a lover of fantasy

Choices
cruel 
Liberation

Dirty feet 
The earth is dirty 
and I wallow myself in it
The world is dirty 
and dying and birthing 
and intense, hypertense
I’m hyper-innervated
The world eats me 
and feeds me 
I walk through it 
with my dirty thoughts 
and my dirty feet

Kalter August-

Frust im August 
Lust
und 
Laune
Erstaunlich 
viel Regen
(Erregen)

Rosmarin Tee
Pistazienkuchen, 
kein Schnee
aber ganz viel Tee
in meinen Träumen fliegen Feen
ich renne hinter meinen Ideen.

Fatal attraction to deadly rhythms –
My eyes are stinging yet no tears come out
Your eyes are singing 
When I look into them 
My ears are ringing 
It’s really hard to accept how this played out 
I speak louder and louder 
Humming until my voice swells; a choire
Voices finding deadly rhythms
Humming until I find my sound

How funny it all was.
How funny it was that it felt so tragic.
How many jokes, fighting, tickling, this tingling feeling of being with someone you know you’re in love with,
you know it’s not enough, so you just laugh.
So stupidly obvious,
But it was funny
and hard to let go of.
The fusion of indulgence in ‘want’ and its consequences.

We need to overcome ourselves first

About the author:

I’m Anna, queer, 24 years old, born in Germany and I’ve been studying medicine in Bulgaria for the last 6 years.

Currently I’m doing my assistance-year and working in the trauma surgery department in Switzerland.

Also a literature lover, film enthusiast, full of chaos, obsessed with everything euphoric, erotic, sensual and sexual. Trying my best to not just live in fantasies and sometimes I’m succeeding.

Feeling blessed and stressed to be alive. 

I believe we’re all here to question the norms that formed themselves overtime and figure out through which thoughts and actions we can liberate ourselves and each other in a way that’s not constricted but expansive.

Images taken by Anna or retrieved from pexels