BARON OF PLAQUE by CEDRIC WEIDMANN
July 25 2025
When he was thirteen he still loved
cotton candy though he did not dare
anymore to tell or buy it
and imagined in order
to fall into sleep to fall into a hügelgrab
of zuckerwatte and when for the first time he
asked a girl on snap if he could
eat her out (owo)
He shut the screen black, took a deep breath
into his sixteen year old bronchial
candy cave that had sugar-coated
his boyish extension
into the world for so long.
The first girl he ever kissed
which was surprisingly soon after
That Snap, it was even the same girl,
asked if he could brush his teeth
before, well he did and said nothing,
and never had anything made him hate
women more than this
nor would anything ever, it was enough
for a lifetime to cure his honeycomb
into a stale countryseat of crystal sugar.
He later learned to love, groom, and
to surgically be a better man
at bare minimum and to fall
into depressive episodes by every
single mistake and he cried sometimes
into his ultrasonic toothbrush that screamed silently
back at him when he had locked the bathroom
to the commoners. He was
a baron, too, who deserved
to be buried in piles of frosting, in a mausoleum
of sin and zahnstein (owo)
He could still fall into sleep
like into a mould in an instant sometimes
he wanted to see
the rot and the roots but
he just smiled when he rolled
up his lip habsburgianly, smiled
just sweet upfront at his family,
so steady were his veneers.
Cedric Weidmann is a writer from Switzerland. This is his first text in English.