🪶 Welcome to Loui Crow

Every word is a match. Every link is a ritual.

You’re already inside.

This is where we stop glazing over.
This is where we look all the way in.

Every link is a spell.
Follow the one that makes your stomach flip. That’s where your story starts.

I work in body-based magick —
where your nervous system is your compass,
your breath is your altar,
and your words are spellcraft with a pulse.

This is about returning to the bones.

I open my ribcage here.
I dissect what I was taught to hide.
I speak what was forbidden — so the ones who thought they were alone can exhale.

If you’ve ever flinched at your own reflection —
or stayed silent just to feel safe —
you’re in the right place.

🕯️ Where to Begin — Here’s the Menu:

🌙 FeatherLock

Featherlock is how I decode the body’s pain.
Any pain.
Headaches. Colds. Injuries. Autoimmune flare-ups. Chronic illness. Skin conditions. Sensory overwhelm.
From broken bones to burnout, diabetes to digestion—it all carries signal.
Every symptom is a story. Every diagnosis is a map.
The body holds the truth of your beliefs—carved in muscle, nerve, breath, and bone.
Featherlock reveals the emotional pattern underneath it.
Not to blame. To liberate.
This is nervous system magick.
This is how we read the body like a spellbook—and break the old spells, feather by feather.
Submit your symptom. I’ll decode the story your body’s been carrying. (Louicrow@gmail.com

📺 Raised by Sitcoms

The laugh tracks trained us.
Smile. Swallow. Survive.
This is where I unravel those programs and find the real script underneath.

🧠 The Other You

The one who stayed alive beneath the costume.
The one who heard everything.
The one who felt it all and waited to be chosen.

📚 I Wasn’t Allowed to Say This — So I’m Saying It Anyway

Words they told me to swallow.
Stories I locked in the jaw.
They live here now — raw, real, and awake.
(Trigger Warning)

🥦 Eat. Feel. Repeat.

Meals are portals. Let’s make them speak healing.
This is kitchen magick for the nervous system.

🏚 People Live Here

The raw map of survival.
Mold — Marriage — Magick — Motherhood. The messy rooms we lived through. No filters. No skips.

🔥 Feathers and Fire — The Loui Crow Scriptures

Modern devotionals written from the ash.
Holy tantrums. Holy truths.
Words made of flame and feather.

🖤 House of Crow and White

This is parenting in the raw.
No legacy of silence.
No hand-me-down shame.
Just the truth of raising a boy with a wide-open nervous system — and staying wide open beside him.

⚔️ Willcraft Magick — The Body Is the Altar

This is where your body leads.
Your rituals live in your movement.
Your power lives in your pulse.
This is where the will lives — and the fire follows.

📖 Starlon

My partner. His voice. Still water. Sharp truth.
A quiet scripture that sings when you listen close.
More coming.

🖋 Tattoo — Holy Ink

Free tattoo designs built from grief, rage, survival, and reclamation.
Mark your turning point.
Crown your pain.
Wear the spell.

🪶 Talk with Loui Crow

You don’t have to vanish to stay safe.
This is a space for your voice.
Free. No pressure. Just truth.

🪶 About Loui Crow

I speak with my ribcage open.

I build spells from breath, body, and words that land like flint on skin.
I track the nervous system like it’s scripture.
I let the truth bleed through the costume.
I write to expose — because some truths need daylight, not defense.
I use language like a lantern — and sometimes a blade.

This is a practice.
Body-based magick.
Emotion as compass.
Voice as doorway.
Everything I offer is lived — sweat-wrung, toddler-carried, mascara-smeared, made holy.

I was shaped by grief, rage, authority and reruns.
I was trained to be quiet and palatable. I chose to become real.

— I decode dreams. (Mine and yours)
— I unlearn systems.
— I rewrite scripture.
— I raise a clairaudient boy.
— I build rituals for the ones too tired to rise
— I speak to the ones who flinch at their own reflection

My power is in the pause.
In the jaw that doesn’t clench.
In the words that leave a mark.
I write so others know they aren’t the only one.

This isn’t a homepage. It’s an altar.

Scroll if you’re ready. Leave if you’re not..

You made it here for a reason.

Crow would say—nothing stays buried forever