Thunder breaks me open from within.
Lightning strikes the peak
of my secret garden.
A twister forms,
pulling all the air inward.
As it touches down
At the center of my flower.
A rhythmic thirst pulling me deep,
My hips begin to rise,
I grasp the sheet, holding on,
not to be sucked into the storm.
The Piano That Found Me:
ACT I: THE FOG I WAKE UP IN
Most mornings
I wake up
ninety percent inside a cloud.
Not sleep.
Not dreams.
A fog that lives behind my eyes
and refuses to lift
no matter how well I behave.
The perfect love exists only in the present moment.
Stillness.
Connection.
The dream grows warmer.
More intimate.
This track slowly transitions into Track 6.
When I woke from the big sleep,
eyes wide open, then closed,
clarity burned brighter than the sun.
The veil tore,
cast into the fire,
with all my other doubts.
A camera slowly moves into the scene.
It drifts across the room, settling on an empty space.
Or maybe not empty.
The bed is unmade.
Someone was here.
Or just left.
The camera keeps moving until it meets a record player in the corner, playing a scratchy, distorted cut of “Room 907 Déjà Vu.”
The Hotel Déjà Vu is a concept album that unfolds like a film you swear you’ve seen before but can’t quite place. Set inside a liminal hotel where time bends and memory loops, each track feels like stepping into a room charged with intimacy, dreams, desire, and awakening.
The Spine of the Sun Where Light Breaks Open is a poetic odyssey of resilience, transformation, and self-reclamation. Told in four acts, this powerful collection explores the depths of survival, the echoes of silence, and the fire that burns within those who refuse to be broken.
