Bellydancer
Bestowing five one-dollar bills on her naked skin with royal confidence known only to testosterone that is completely unaware of own irrelevance.
Misf*cked
How bizarre. You are…you were just one of those people I misf*cked.
Pain Excites You More Than I Do
So, once again I independently decide that you don't love me. You deny it, you say it's not it. I have a hard time buying it because I know how people act when they are in love. They can't bear long separation, they can't help responding to texts, it's the Force that...
Little Deaths
A ghost of you is everywhere. I feel dumb, helpless and enlightened. I think about all the places where we used to go every weekend. Restaurants, our faces, laughing. Trust, ease, feeling comfortable. Where the fuck did it all go? I refuse to think about quantum...
Homo Soveticus: They Are Back!
When I was growing up in the Soviet Union, we joked that harsh Soviet reality gave birth to a new human species – Homo Soveticus. Homo Soveticus was that secretly insecure, exhausted, angry human who was too tired for politeness, too narrow-minded for freedom, and too thick-headed for dissent.
Letters of Naked Soul: The Truest Thing
I don’t love you, but you need to love me. I need to come and go as I wish, and you need to wait for me, wherever and whenever I is. You were put on this earth to wait for me.
Tessa is a strongly opinionated singer and musician living in New York. Her background is in classical piano, linguistics, computers, ethnomusicology, and Tibetan studies. She fronts Tessa Makes Love.
Robots are on her shit list, and this blog is about not taking shit from the machine.
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