Sun and Poetry

I went to pick up a flip phone today. It makes me very happy but I'm not happy with it. What I mean is, it doesn't have the necessary features for me to completely shift to using it. But having it makes me happy anyway :) I always wanted one, ever since I was a little girl. This is the first flip phone I've ever owned. Now I have one. And it's mine, all mine ~💖

It was only 70€ after all. I'm looking into more proper phones, expensive ones, for my birthday. Flip phones that have WhatsApp. I need to get to unpacking my stuff, I miss my cheap ass mp3 player to go along with my cheap ass digital camera. I need some real gear, lol. But these are often impulse purchases for me. 

As I went to get the package, I got to experience what I've been waiting for during the entire second half of winter: the first fall of early spring sunshine on my skin. That ecstasy of remembering the sun's bright, warm embrace again. 

I got distracted while journaling and started organising my stickers by colour. God, stickers have been the best offline hobby I've picked up. It makes me so happy. I'm so happy, nurturing and nourishing myself. 

I'm trying to write a poem. I have a call planned in a few hours with a friend I made on Substack to help me work on it. He's been somewhat of a Substack crush for me. When our timezones line up, we talk to each other basically 24/7. The voice call will be a step up in our friendship. And, then, eventually, his one way ticket to Vienna! 

It's been nice talking to him :)

Here's my outfit from today: 

And here's the poem, so far: 

Hi Greg,

can you hear me? 

I’m the ghost of your relapse.

I’m inside your hollow skull.

I’m the monkey on your back.

I’m the consequences you regret.

I’m the evil shade of ultravox,

Vienna meant everything to you.

It took two to dance our degeneracy

and I won’t let you go sober.

I’m the two litre bottle of vodka 

that’s grown emotions of her own.

I’m crawling into the cavity in your chest 

and I fit perfectly.

You can’t resist me;

I am the desire you’re powerless over.

God won’t help you here.

Do you remember how I used to beg for you? 

The power you held over my waking moments and my sleep. 

I’m the little sister who used to call you “daddy”.

I’m young, hot, and out of reach for a creep like you, 

unless caught up in the two-person tango

you choreographed, remember?  

Don’t date someone older, now, 

like I’m something you could leave behind.

You claim that it’s over, but 

you smile, bashful, at my attention,

and I see it, I see my in,

I see you begging “please, break me again”.

Don’t you worry, Greg.

I’m coming to get you.

I won’t let you leave me lonely.

I’m Vienna,

waiting, 

for you.

x Moa 

27.02.2026