She Who Lives in My Chest

my heart is selfish
and only wants me

She’s abusive,
intrusive.
She swallows me hidden.

I’m in love with her
I trust her

She forces me,
shoves truth
out from my belly
through my clenched teeth

She makes me throw up,
nice and neat.
She edges me to moonstone tears

Even I am sick of me
and my selfish heart

She allows me to fold
as she soaks into my Viking thighs

I wouldn’t still be alive
without her

June 22 & July 8, 2026

I saw X.

It was tender, satiating for once. The first time we’ve connected that I left feeling… satisfied.

He was in tune with me. He listened to me and gave me what I wanted.

I felt his heart outside of his nervous system. I felt it on his body, tasted it on his skin, and heard it in his voice as he whispered to me.

He feels safe with me.

I spoke his love language as he laid his head on my bosom, and I caressed his head, back, and arms. I soothed him. I’m protective over him beyond myself.

I told him I cared about him and expressed other affections. I kissed his head. He’s my baby.

This time I adored him all the way.

We laughed and teased. I told him I felt safe with him. We held each other’s bodies, pressing skin against skin, rubbing our faces together, biting cheeks. He adores me.

We became yin and yang, and I loved it. Saliva and sweat—I didn’t mind.

I don’t need to know what it is anymore. I’ve worn myself out trying to understand.

I surrender.

He means something to me. What we have is genuine. It’s not some fantasy anymore. It’s real. Out of my head. Real.

I wanted to reassure him. Remind him that he’s special to me.

X is my lover, and I think I need him.

Time will continue, but I’m in a vulnerable place, and I’m no longer embarrassed to admit that I need him.

I needed him yesterday. We fell asleep on the phone.

I feel warm when he calls me his Mulberry.

We talked while I was at work, and I didn’t feel so alone in it all. I feel emotionally and spiritually safe knowing he’s here.

It’s easy to assume—or even wish—for more. Though I don’t think that’s us.

Something about X soothes me like a child checking to make sure their mother is still there, then finding out she is. The relief. The calm that follows.

Maybe I am not as strong as I thought.

This space is good.

I am chaos and loud. I am mad and an exciting time. I make safe spaces for people to exist, and they choose to exist with me.

Get to know someone long enough, and you’ll eventually see a piece of yourself in them.

I want to hold on to X.

I don’t want to let go of what we are.

I just don’t.

A Wind Chime

she was copper glamour
covered in bells
a wind chime
in the rising symphony
bent over and hungry
making music to me
being everything
touched by the sun

Souls’ Teeth

i weave tension

as eyes made contact

as our stare shapes

fantasy and eruption

we are careless

we destroy out of delight

our passion with walls poured pride

we became one another’s prey

i am dancing on the world

you built it with the grit

between our souls’ teeth

Set in Stone

she’s set in stone
with the moon
more free
she folds in
radiating out loud
to simplify her magic
would be a betrayal
to the Gods
she’s deep breathes
savory
selfish
set in stone

The Shape of Listening

Learning how to let the image breathe. Practicing restraint, symbolism, space. Trusting simplicity more.

✶ handmade paper, sunprints, cinnamon bark, embroidery, glitter, fern clippings & cowerie shells ✶

Emotional Hieroglyphics

My recent work explores subconscious divination through collage and material experimentation.


Using embroidery, scraps, symbolic repetition, texture, handmade paper, organic remnants, and intuitive composition, I’ve been creating what feel like emotional hieroglyphics or dream maps – artifacts of an evolving inner mythology.


The work exists somewhere between intuitive abstraction, sacred symbolism, folk mysticism, outsider assemblage, and visual poetry.


I’m interested in how subconscious memory communicates through symbols, texture, repetition, and material instinct. These pieces are less concerned with polished representation and more concerned with emotional residue, psychic mapping, and the transformation of fragments into living symbolic systems.

✶ Materials: embroidery, glitter, old scrap drawings, sunprint paper, ink, self portrait, tree seeds ✶

I play with myself as an entity

I am clay
robust
an audacious burgundy
a whole lot of eyes on me

when I peer over myself
I am a witness
wandering for a spring

supple breasts
rich
I am speaking poetically
I have solid ground

I play with myself as an entity

∆• dried plants, cinnamon bark, sun printed paper, embroidery, glitter, old drawing cut outs & ink on handmade paper •∆