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,
22 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, nervous systems, and teaching my body it’s finally safe. Others live in law of attraction, spirit animals, numerology, 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.
The Mirror HISSED First (Snake) — Lyrics
I was in front of the mirror when it happened: it felt like the glass talking back. The snake in this story isn’t evil; it’s honest. It sheds instead of explains. It reminds you that what strikes from the mirror came from you first. It’s the sound of the old self leaving through the throat.
This song is for anyone who’s ever feared their own reflection. For the ones who spoke cruelty to their image and then wondered why the glass hissed back. The mirror doesn’t hate you—it remembers you. And sometimes remembering sounds like a hiss.
Crow - Lyrics
This one isn’t a song. It’s a spell. I wrote it for every part of me that never got the funeral, never got the scream. Crow is the witness. The mirror. The scream in sky-shape. She remembers what the world tried to forget. I gave her my ache. She gave it wings. If you’ve ever swallowed your truth to keep the peace—she’s circling for you.