They have told you to hide it. They have told you to stuff it up, to let it turn brown before it leaves you, to not let the word pass your lips. They have told you that your body functions just like a man’s — — ignoring that your body takes a month to go through your process. He goes through his in a day.
Things are coming undone Let them die. A lady in the dark Snakes wrapped around her organs She keeps herself collected Pretends she doesn’t feel them Inside She wants to surrender, to Receive It is calling her to take Responsibility Swallows of the coolest water She holds herself Like wax, she melts When lit Fills her own container First
— I wrote this poem on August 9th when I was in the depths of a huge energetic shift, and just found it in the notes on my phone this morning. Wanted to share with you. Rest came for me this evening It did not warn me It did not even knock on the door. It did not give me time to plan, to
The immature feminine tears things down when they no longer feel true. She is a little bit afraid of destruction, but she will let it come through. She is fascinated by it. She rips everything to shreds when it no longer feels right. The immature feminine utilizes her power, but she often feels victimized by it. She absolves herself of responsibility, saying, “Me? I didn’t
YOUR BELLY IS SUPPOSED TO HANG DOWN. Today I had a session with @_carly.rae . As she massaged my belly, she pointed out how tight the fascia was. “Our bellies are supposed to hang down,” she said. To make room for our organs. So our uterus and our intestines have space. I have known for a long time that I’m not supposed to have a
In Awe I bow In Reverence To Her She knows exactly what is needed in every moment, Exactly who She is for To some, She gives a drop To others, a flooding Some, a tsunami To some, a gentle river Lapping waves, and Crashing She doses her medicine In the perfect amount She goes where she is called. Where
Drink her in, down your throat Cold milk honey On your knees Let him fill you with life Stop tensing your legs, gripping, resisting Reaching for completion Peel back that skin Rip the scab off When the darkness overcomes her She no longer panics. Curiosity arises She says Yes To every outcome She says Yes
Dear Money, The truth is that you’ve always had my back, haven’t you? Yet I’ve been ashamed of you. I’ve hidden you from others, I’ve pretended like you didn’t exist, and I’ve ignored your existence – all while you fulfilled my every desire. I acted as if you were unimportant, because I thought that would make me seem cool. I pretended that we weren’t as
Let us not use the term “victim blaming” as an excuse to absolve ourselves and others of personal responsibility. What I notice is that women often feel triggered by my posts, and throw that term at me to defend themselves from having to consider how they have a hand in creating their own lives. If something happens to you, it is
She keeps looking for Her Everywhere she is not. In the climbing. The unending stairs of masculine success She fills up and spills out Climaxes Mines herself for further resources She puts on her makeup and pretty dresses and wonders where the dull ache is coming from The ache is what’s actually calling her home.