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a song about the days i experience before bleeding.
i cancelled meetings/ to crawl into a hole/ i need a bit more rest today/ need the mornings untouched by thought/ and a space to be, a space to dream a space to grieve
I am not a mother, not this time.
its not funny/ not this hour/ confronted by the corner of my mind/ haunted by indecision/ and repressed emotion/ i need space to be, a space to dream, space to grieve
that i am not a mother, not this time.
where’s the chocolate/ i don’t need boy/ just a hand in mind/ been picking at my face again/ been craving sex again.
I am not a mother, not this time.
a upheaval in my life has left me feeling like damaged goods. i am left with my moleskine and a back shed full of erotica books and unfinished paintings. (18+) this virtual feed has grown to be a space of research and reflections in the following topics: sacred sexuality, dreaming, art, love, mystic teachings, eroticism, self portraits, nudes 