J’Moris – ‘Toxic Lovespell’ Review: Bleeding Hearts and Broken Patterns

On Toxic Lovespell, J’Moris doesn’t whisper sweet nothings—he mutters into the void, exes himself out of the equation, and emerges without resolution. The Hillsboro rapper’s latest project lands like the emotional hangover of a relationship that never quite had rules, only rhythms—most of them destructive.

“This album is the raw, unrestrained version of me,” J’Moris explains, and you can hear that disassembly. Tracks don’t rise so much as seep in. The production from Supamario Beatz is thick and woozy—codeine-stained basslines, brittle snares, synths that flicker like cheap motel signs. This isn’t heartbreak with a violin; it’s heartbreak with a slow leak and a towel under the door.

Where previous projects flirted with flex and bravado, Toxic Lovespell feels more like a resignation letter. On one track, he talks about striving for perfection but falling short. On another, he barely lifts his voice, like someone reliving a mistake mid-sentence. It’s the sound of a man standing inside his own contradictions—fully aware, fully stuck.

Love here isn’t romantic. It’s obsessive, transactional, circular. “Navigating it creates a toxic, peaceful bliss,” he says, and that paradox runs through the entire record. He’s aware of the mess, but he keeps walking into it. That’s what makes the album compelling: J’Moris doesn’t play the victim. He plays the unreliable narrator you can’t stop listening to.

There are moments where it slips—some ideas feel unfinished, some hooks drift into repetition—but that almost suits the project’s psyche. It’s not polished for clarity. It’s carved for catharsis.