Chaos magick with a mother’s mercy and a crow’s accuracy.
(Scroll down for lyrics)
I love writing music because It shows me who I want to be, while showing who I’ve been.
This space is my grimoire in plain sight.
Mirror work, meltdown, magick — all braided into sound.
GORGEOUS was the first album, the scream, the first skin I shed.
This album comes with a trigger warning and lives in its own tab.
It covers sexual coercion, PTSD, abuse, and more.
FVNERAL is the burial: a double album with
27 tracks, 22 Reversed Major Arcana Tarot Cards
as ghost burials of false selves I once needed to survive.
(still being written)
Between them, I write single release songs —
rage and trauma, mirror work, grief rituals, protection spells, and anti–people-pleasing anthems. Some are about parenting and trying not to pass the storm down. Some are about chronic pain and teaching my body it’s finally safe. Others live in law of attraction, spirit animals and body-based magick—spell-songs for the ones who feel too much and need somewhere to put it.
Everything here was written because I needed it.
If you’re reading, maybe something in here needs you too.
My songs are written by me (a Scorpio with too many journals) and sung through Suno.
The songs below are mirrors. Pick the one that stares back.
Crow watches the gate.
keep the light on.
Crow On The Wire
This one is for the version of me who's thoughts scatter like startled birds, who cleans the counter for the fourth time, who suddenly can’t read a paragraph she was just inside of. I wrote this for the quiet moment where my body braces and my truth blurs—when instinct tries to shield me from knowing too much, too soon.
There’s a witness in me who never buys the performance. She doesn’t push; she just perches—bright-eyed, unamused by my avoidance. This track is a little signal for the days I feel myself thinning at the edges, slipping out of view. A reminder that I can come back without armor on.
If you’re someone who senses things too early, holds too much, or slips out of your own skin when the feeling hits—here’s a small light on the wire for you.
May it meet you right at the edge of your truth.
May it welcome you back gently.
May it steady the place you stand.
WHAT’S YOUR MARK? (The Ghost)
What’s Your Mark? is a mirror-song for the ones who smiled through survival. It’s about the bite behind “be good,” the flinch behind “be nice.” Every verse speaks the ghost you became to be kept. You weren’t born ashamed—you were trained. This is the body’s record. The rage beneath the praise. The addiction born from silence. You didn’t vanish. You adapted. Now the mark is glowing. And the mirror is calling you home.
I Can’t Make You Happy - Lyrics
This one ripped itself out of me. It’s the truth I swallowed for years. I wrote this inside the guilt—while it still had claws in my throat. It names the lie of being “nice.” Of being liked for staying silent. It’s not about blame—it’s about reclamation. I can’t make them happy. I was never meant to. I’m with me now.
WIFEY GOT A GOOD LIFE – Lyrics
Wifey Got a Good Life—a love song rooted in mess, memory, and staying through the storm. It captures the quiet joy of a life co-built: cold rice on the stove, laughter in the kitchen, a child drawing on the wall. The moment holds because love held first. This isn’t a dream—it’s the real thing, and it hums from the inside out.
I AM ALFIE (THE BLACK PIG INSIDE) – Lyrics
A stuffed pig named Alfie once offered comfort. Now she returns as black flame, bent-eared and unashamed. This is the lyric blog for I Am Alfie (The Black Pig Inside)—a ritual of hunger reclaimed, rage remembered, and softness reborn in mud. Shame becomes drumbeat. Craving becomes law. The girl who danced in secret doesn’t ask anymore. She stomps. She wants. She stays.
Sorry Was a Spell (Bury the Ghost)
This piece cracks open the word “sorry” and lays its ghost to rest. It follows a moment between strangers—a girl at a train station and the version of myself that met her gaze and remembered. The blog carries a full-body ritual, a breakdown of how “sorry” implants itself in our voice, and a vow to speak louder anyway. This is about shedding shame and taking up air.
SARAH (Funeral for a Ghost) – Lyrics
This blog is the lyrical eulogy for SARAH—the ghost self who survived by vanishing. It tells the story of a girl who performed peace, smiled through pain, and died inward so the future could breathe. Through lyrics, ritual, and somatic breakdown, this piece names the cost of self-erasure and the beauty of walking away. It's not about shame—it’s about release, choice, and fire.
INTEGRITY CHECK (Before I Scroll) – Lyrics
This is a body-level oath disguised as a song. INTEGRITY CHECK isn’t about performance—it’s a sacred pause before your nervous system reenacts the old flinch. Written by a military-trained mind with a prophet’s heart, it teaches you to scan your breath instead of the feed. This blog breaks down the lyrics, the ritual, and the real meaning of integrity—when no one’s watching but your mirror.
FUNERAL SELFIE – Post the Grief. Bury the Ghost.
This blog reveals the grief ritual behind FUNERAL SELFIE, a scream with eyeliner and dirt in her teeth. It breaks down what “cringe” really is—a flinch, a body-based shame pattern, and a ghost that feeds on silence. With lyrics, body-spell ritual, and affirmation, this piece invites you to rake the shame, name the pain, and post the proof. You’ll leave with dirt under your nails and your voice intact.
RAKE AND STICK (FOR EVERY MOTHER AND FATHER WHO HELD IT IN) – Lyrics
This blog digs into the silence shaped by survival. Loui Crow wields the rake and the stick as ritual tools—unearthing what was buried, and swinging what was never allowed to scream. Part lyrical offering, part body-spell, this piece turns inherited weight into rhythm, movement, and breath. It’s a thunder cry of love for the ones who never got to let it out.
COME | BE | YOU — A Tantrum Gospel for the Loud Ones - Lyrics
COME | BE | YOU is a war cry for the kids who were told to sit still and shut up. It’s a lyrical gospel for the weirdos, the rage-born, the ones who survived by getting loud. This blog unpacks the fire beneath the noise, the sacred scream that saves lives, and the rite of reclaiming your uncaged voice. The song is both a spell and a sermon—an anthem for those ready to make their chaos holy.
SOCIAL SICKNESS – Lyrics
This blog unpacks the lyrics to “Social Sickness,” a truth-spell disguised as a song. It explores what happens when your body says no before you do—through sore throats, gut pain, fatigue, and post-event crashes. Drawing from somatic wisdom and real-life experience, it turns shame into signal and illness into insight. Readers will learn how to decode their own body’s no, cancel with power, and reclaim their sacred boundaries.
LOUDER - Lyrics
This is a song for the ones who learned to shrink, smile, and stay silent. LOUDER is a rage anthem and reclamation rite—a lyrical exorcism of every time you were told to hush, calm down, or “be nice.” Through somatic truth-telling and vocal liberation, Loui Crow cracks open the jaw, breathes through the freeze, and lets the sound come back unfiltered. This isn’t about noise—it’s about claim.