Day 121. I undress my soul for those willing to step into the room and listen with their entire being.

Day 120. pleasure seeker. uncorked. I met a boy who’d been burned by hot stones.

Day 119. anneal. split from a throat. sung up high

Day 118. Like the painting of the lover's embrace wrapped in white cloth.

Day 117. I prefer the miscalculation. I prefer progression over precision.

Day 116. Glass on glass. Make a wish before it turns to dust.

Day 115. Peaches and cream, granular. Seeds spitting silk in the rain.

Day 114. fiesta para los sentidos; a feast for the senses.

Day 113. The first person to take my head. Rebel is its own world.

Day 112. Heart like a honeysuckle stalk. Wise words from a young shaven sage.

Day 111. Throat of violets. Anonymity has its power. Clap, clap, clap.

Day 109. sloppy sun-soaked dreams: I will take my time.

Day 108. Creativity occurs between each phrase. A sketch. A line. A blob. A blur. A broken egg.

Day 107. four cards. four faces/phases. lion - turtle - scorpion - gazelle.

Day 106. Una Habitación Propia, I need my own room. Sips of what I crave.

Day 105. Perhaps broodiness isn’t sexy.

Day 104. I tipped the pot over and spilled the content though there was no mess to clean up.

Day 103. Is the point of recording our reconciliations to reveal our relationship to the world?

Day 102. what it means to be an aesthete. stay here, sweet heart.

Day 101. the purple pill takers.