The Bride That Married Herself

About this artwork

I like to sleep alone. When my arms hug the creases of my winged shoulders, and my fingers hide inside my palms, I am at my happiest. Resting, melting, molding shapes into birds caressing the waves of my skin. My feet folded like two covers of a sacred book, devoured, ravished, consumed, Full of intimate untold secrets, Only disclosed by unconscious unborn dreams. I don’t have to ask, I don’t have to answer, and neither explain. There is no dissonance in my lullabied brain. When the sun outside my windows becomes darkness, I turn to my moonlight to cast away the demons lurking in the tenebrae, until the sun returns. As he is my father and she is my mother. Ever protecting and ever watching as I deep dive into a giant feast of multi-colored dreams.