Cycle 22

Content Warning: This piece may be triggering for some readers.

Day 1: Malady is my catharsis; I house the coiled cobra of grief in my chest.

Day 2: Lord, be true; I am solace to seven devils.

Day 3: Poison is my genuflection; honey is my blade.

Day 4: Soil matter, hips of fear and prayer, I give and take form, I come undone in a thousand flares.

Day 5: Sorrow exhales seraphims; my grief burns a new womb.

Day 6: I eat the Inferno’s rapture/rupture as air.

Day 7: I am a midnight rosary strung with amour.

Day 8: Ophidian Womban of the Nile, the body is a battlefield, my hips gyrate the burial of Horus.

Day 9: Shrouded by crollo, my martyr kills for venom, I am the Lord’s weapon of choice.

Day 10: My blood is of steel; my body is of cielo and tristezza. I pray to myself.

Day 11: Singed angels descend from my giardino of wet epiphanies.

Day 12: Undead Sposa of the Mind, retribution in heaven, I lick the flares of king cobras, Dio smolders in my want.

Day 13: God is wet silenzio; I sip cherubic suicide.

Day 14: La Santa Vergine of Black Matter, fixation fatale six feet sub rosa, slit the Devil’s silk.

Day 15: I am the ishq that eats mercy, I exhale boa constrictors, I walk amongst dead utopias, what is at the heart of your moon?

Day 16: Night verdure to silk stained glass, genuflect to Circe’s fire, I am death’s suspiration, the body is a pyre.

Day 17: My womb is a tomb of black velvet petunias; I bear/bare an inverted sun.

Day 18: Queen of Poisons, drunk on angelo dell’inferno sighs, the winged sacred heart is my moon, I am wolf’s bane.

Day 19: I am kismet asmolder, beating through the moaning tide.

Day 20: I shrill heaven asunder; I am a red mouth cercata.

Day 21: Rosary tits, mezzanotte rose hips, cunt — chamber of snake dust/cathedral pit, God is eventide on its knees.

Day 22: La Rose de Fer, the heart of Lord Mercury, my legacy is Puttana Lazarus, la Luna is my Blessed Mother.

Day 23: Enshadowed widow, womban — rite of il serpente, my wine is in winged flames.

Day 24: Maven-Mistress of Ancient Terrors, belly of beckoning rebirth, a cathedral is a woman.

Day 25: Vergine Mary of La Morte, mouth to seven infernal suns/sins, I pray for serpent rain, what suspires through you?

Day 26: Chained Shangri-La, pistol moon, sob to the siren sea, stain your God.

Day 27: Maa Kali Rossa unsinned, nix fever, the body is a taut wildwood, I genuflect to deceased gardens.

Rebecca is devoted to the holy matrimony of female eroticism and the Godhead. Wild womanhood is her religion. As Regina of Night, Reiki Master Teacher, spiritual counselor, serpentine strega, pussy priestess, womb worker, and published linguistic mystic, she is a cathedral of freedom. She works the mysteries of the dark and divine feminine and unearths all that is womban in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and beyond. Peruse her blog:, or invoke her: