Am I Smart or Am I A Silly, Silly Slut?

Devils and Demons and a Quaking Mess of Sensitivity

i want him inside 
i want openness, heat 
i want melting oblivion 
oh, i want weed 

i want madness and mind melting 
wild raw beast 
i want FUCK ME 
i scream 
i want money yes please
i want riches and riches 
and come to me please

i am reverence and dripping and 
oh won’t you just
fuck me up against the wall?

crazy, enticing 
entrancing with ecstasy
blow me to pieces 
you’re ravishing me 

i want honey on my pussy 
i want you to drink 
i want rapture blaspheming
fuck you and fuck me and 
fuck everything 

i’m clean and damn dirty 
your queen your whore 
i’m losing my worry 
come feel me i’m free 

my belly is growling 
for something 
your entry
 — it pains me 
to feel all this nothing 

i love you i love you 
it used to be fantasy
reaching for something 
i didn’t believe 

but it’s true 
you don’t leave
even when i do 

even through everything 
even when i
forget to write poetry 
caught in my web
of wicked beauty 

you stay with me.

@notthirsttraps via instagram

“What shall you name her?” Luke asked when I told him I’d whooshed back into my body, returning from a wild ride with Winnie, the part of me that is at once worried and filled with wonder.

She loves not knowing… yet she’s afraid of it, too. The little one within who was (is?) confused about what all this is.

She comes out to be seen, mostly, when I'm on the edge of something new.

In the scope of my life, now is newer than anything has ever been. 

In the past month I've sold art birthed of my deep heart’s work, taught my first workshop in years, helped women unearth their inner sluts (in addition to my own), and crafted a membership exploring all things feminine mythos and mystery (ps if you wanna join, send me a love note. It’s gonna be yummy).

A lot of change is happening all at once, which is not unfamiliar. And every time it happens, Winnie pops in to say hello. 

She feels prismatic, pulling me into red and yellow and green, and blue, asking me to see the facets more clearly. Asking me to create! That’s what she wants. Art for art’s sake. 

Art for art’s sake is one of my values, but so is making money, and sometimes, I get caught up in business stuff. I love it, really I do. I find it enthralling to learn marketing and strategy and to be implementing it for a business that quenches my soul. 

And sometimes, the balance goes askew... temporarily, I forget the werk beneath the work. Temporarily, I forget to play. I forget to be loosey goosey. I forget to get slutty. I forget to be brazen. I forget I have many things to say, in many ways. I forget to write poetry. I forget to paint. I forget that all of this is worthy of my attention. All of these parts are welcome.

If I know anything it’s this. Newness is an excavation process that brings with it an upheaval of emotional residue — all the things that were blocking the channel kicked up in a giant wave finally breaking on the shore. Which is what I want. It’s just that the treasures often come with a bit of sea goo. 

There’s a little cleaning up to do before the gifts are glimmering in the summer sun. 

But there is, no doubt, mother of pearl on the underbelly. 

One thing about me is that I am a different woman every day. You probably are, too.

Some days soft and sensual; some dark and sultry, some devilishly edgy.

Some days Georgia O'Keeffe, others Sade, and still others Samantha Jones with a side of Rihanna and Beyonce. 

Every so often I wonder if it might be less confusing to just choose one and stick with it, but inevitably I remember that trying to choose just one is the only thing that truly confuses me. 

What I am starting to notice though, is how I am always coming back to two main wingwomen: my inner Sally and Gillian Owens, who were cemented in my psyche the moment the opening titles of Practical Magic started rolling. 

Two sides of the same coin. Gillian and her sometimes reckless, sultry, erotic, devilish darkness. Sally and her raw, pulsing, devotional heart and her otherworldly intelligence, sometimes masked with fear of being different. Both believing in the power of love more than anything.

And then there is the demonizing part. Mazikeen, remember? She hurts. She hides. She distracts. She blames it on too muchness and not enoughness and sometimes on chocolate and coffee.

She demonizes me for revealing my radiance, in all its imperfect glory. 

She’s afraid of the quaking mess of sensitivity, and she is exactly that — beautiful, messy emergence. 

I forget sometimes the fear is part of my power. And I forget the recklessness is, too. The fucking around and finding out. I forget I don’t have to perform, or be perfect, or know everything. I forget my uniqueness is my genius. I forget to be a mad scientist sometimes. And I forget that all of it feeds my artist. 

But as the years go on, it seems I remember more. 

Oh dear devils, I’m so glad to have you in this community, and if you’ve not yet subscribed, I simply don’t understand…

Here, click the button for juice beyond your wildest dreams. And don’t forget to share to notes or with a friend!

p.s. My monthly membership HOT WET WOMAN is now open!

Join us for a journey into feminine mystery and mythos designed to:

❤️‍🔥 keep your inner fire roaring and your 🐱 purring
❤️‍🔥 expand your capacity for pleasure 
❤️‍🔥 unearth the power hidden in your sexual shadows
❤️‍🔥 help you explore the depth and range of your erotic expression
❤️‍🔥 root you into the turned on essence of your feminine energy
❤️‍🔥 help you cultivate an inner masculine to support your feminine emergence

… and so much more as the path unfolds

This month’s theme is UNDERWORLD ECSTASY 😈❤️‍🔥🍭

If you want to deepen your relationship with your erotic self, have an interest in the mythological and/or mystical realms, and want to have so much fun on a journey of self-growth… you’d literally be insane not to join.

Let me know in a DM if you want in!