the definition of passion

This ode is to the idea of you, for that is whom I am truly pining for.

Writing in my journal does not suppress the intense emotions and dreams thinking of you brings me.

I juggle between worlds, attempting to find the right words or expressions to describe each emotion that my Heart births for you. For you I created a philosophy;

abstruse, ageless and ancestral definitions of passion and love.

I have gathered for you the most beautiful and desirable of my dreams that I have sowed and reaped by the Spring of my life, tender products of my sweat and blood.

What have you done to deserve this devotion, to deserve My most sincere confessions.

Are you my Achilles heel?

We are opposites, You and I.

You are left, I am right


A logical man, determined to make illogical

I am your Life.

The fire of your loins.

Your sin, your soul.

sin titulo

I want to dance,

I want my dress to cling to my body,

I want you to watch.

I want you to love and adore me,

desire me,

sing and read to me,

until I fall asleep.

I have a jewelry box,

full of beating hearts

yours is not in it.

Me hiciste llorar,

y mi hiciste recordar

que no soy suficiente.

I want to dance with others,

and smile and laugh



make you desire me

No volvere amar asi

y espero

que valores

y guardes

este grande amor

que sostuve por ti

Te amo

sin cesar

sin questionar

los miles de crimenes

que has hecho

contra mi

y a mi corazon


y alma

me tienes trastornada



por ti

que veneno me diste

por que la inocencia que tengo se va desvaneciendo

si quieres que sea mala

sere tu diabla

dame tu mano

y baila conmigo

este bals

de mentiras y pasión.


Un y mil veces,


me ruinas mi vida

salte de mi corazon

ya no quiero que vivas aquí

lamento haberte conocido

lamento haber retorcido entre tus brazos

no se por que amo sin cesar a hombre que se empeñan a lastimarme,

a engañarme

y tratarme como quieran

me siento como Maria Magdalena,

derramando mis lagrimas por ti,

y usándolas, empapando mi cabellera con ellas

para limpiar tus tiernos pies

los pies de un hombre que no ha sufrido

dias en el sol

eres un pendejo

por que yo hubiera dado mi vida entera por ti

Mucho Corazón…

Dar por un querer,

la vida misma sin morir

Eso es cariño

No lo que hay en ti

– Benny Moré

I’ve tried forgetting you

One night, and then another,

and then a couple more.

You’ve impregnanted my mind with your nonchalance,

And like a boy yearning for his father’s approval

I do what I think you want me to,

I do my best for you,

But I don’t think its enough.

I ruined this by trusting you too early,

by loving you too early,

I bared my soul to a man who lacks one.

You’re the cruel one in this relationship

Even if I am the one who occasionally holds the whip.

Que inútil son mis esfuerzos de olvidarte,

te pienso con cada canción, te veo en las nubes, y te siento cuando el viento acaricia mi piel.

Que pendeja soy yo por amarte de esta forma,

que tonta soy por amarte asi.

Soy pintora, pero no atrevo usar mi pincel

Que los colores no podrán hacer justicia en describir todo lo que siento por ti.

Inutilmente te escribo versos,

te dedico canciones,

Estas paginas, letras, lagrimas

son para ti.

Mas de un hombre se muere por estar a mis pies,

besar mi piel morena,

Escuchar el chasquido de mis dedos finos.

Pero prefiero mil veces la mas minima caricia tuya.

Mi corazón es tuyo y atrás de el,

Sigue mi alma.

Mi mente no somete fácil, aunque eres todo lo que pienso

Con fuerzas esta atada a la realidad,

que tal vez solamente soy un juego para ti

tu rico pasatiempo.

Tu no sabes lo que es amar.

‘who Understands This Love” – Galy Galiano

“She, she says that she loves me

She then later says that she hates me,

She wakes up happy

And the next day she’s upset.

Complacent, indifferent,

Who understands this love?

She, she is very beautiful its true.

She, she is a mystery

I love her with all her defects,

For me, everything is perfect when we are in bed

Who understands this love?

Who understands this love

With everything and for everything,

she is like this

But with everything and for everything,

I love her.

I like seeing her enraged, oh at me

When she turns her back to me, and walks

She makes me lose my mind;

As her dress clings,

She dominates me.

I can’t spend a day without seeing her

I am happy by her side,

She changes everything,

She becomes owner of everything,

With her love.

Who understands this love?

I like seeing her angry; I later make her laugh and she kisses me.

With her caresses she drives me wild,

And with her slights that affect me,

I let her be!

I only want her to live with me,

for this love to be forever.

Because she is my life and my death,

that is what makes her so different.

Who understands this love?

Who understands?”

One of my favorite salsa songs, I think Latino men can be submissive when in love, if not all men.

I think true love makes us all submit, even just a little. For a fleeting moment.

amour, ma vie

What more can I do, at this point I can either wait and see your true passion or leave and never turn back.

I deserve more than what you are currently giving.

Call me greedy. Call me ravenous. But I am not in the wrong.

I wish you hadn’t plucked me.

Why keep me if you’re just going to let me wither,

was I not prettier while growing, expanding

I do not want to be flora that will be replaced after the freshness is gone

Toss me to the wind, let me be.

Or keep me,

press me,

Preserve me in the heart of your favorite book,

Place me between the pages of your most wonderful memory,

Treasure me.

Me recuerdas demasiado de mi mas fatal amor.

Un amor que deseo revivir jamás.

Me encuentro preguntado a mi misma, por que te amo así; por que la verdad un anglo-sajón no merece una pasión así.

Siendo franca, tu mereces una aburrida blanca igual que tu. Atole de agua. Bolillo seco. Arroz aguado que nadie quiere.

Deberías agradecer la vida todas las mañanas y noches por haberme conocido. Yo, todo una mujer. Divina feminidad. Una Diosa.

Yo te amo con sinceridad.

Y si algún dia me arrepiento de haberte amado tanto, que así sea, que por lo menos este amor me ha inspirado a escribir versos y mejorar mi labia cada día.

Y si algún dia tu llegas a leer y entender todas estas dedicaciones de amor, no me dará vergüenza.

Que las letras que te he dedicado han sido y serán las mas finas.

Ojala que aprendas mi lengua, la que tanto te encanta sentir pasar sobre tu piel. Para que sepas que soy una gran poeta y escritora en dos mundos.

piedras: melancholia

When I reflect upon my life, I always try to see it from the perspective of an outside force.

Because truly, no one else’s perspective matters. I no longer question “why” I went through or go through things. I just accept my challenges and blessings as they present themselves.

Also really grateful I haven’t been married/had the need to and that I have no kids.

I’ve learned to wash my clothes on rocks since as early as I can remember, probably 10 years old I started to really get the knack of it and at 17, I was pretty skilled.

At 17, I had already made friends with other indigenous and mestizo girls my age from my grandparent’s village. My cousin, them, and I would go as a group together down to the riverbank, hauling either a sack or cart-full of laundry as we walked down the unpaved roads.

We’d be laughing, joking about, well, teenage girl things. Our favorite time to go was about an hour or two before dusk. We knew they’d be almost no “Ama de casas” during the early evenings, meaning we could be free to talk about what we please without fear of being eavesdropped.

I didn’t care about others hearing my conversations, but then again I didn’t live there year-round and being a USC gave me a pass on many things that would be considered offensive if done by others.

The Sun never seems to want to go away when you’re near the equator, I’m glad there are parts on Earth that relatively unscathed by European bull shit.

Our favorite parts of the banks are were the water was the calmest and not so deep. Out of our group of 3-5 girls, only another girl and myself could swim. Both her and I were able to dive into the deeps of the river and find the best rocks to throw and scrub our dirty clothes on.

I recall diving and finding the perfect slab, a bit porous, but not overly so, just enough to be abrasive. I’d grab the slab with both my hands, wiggling it around, and prying it up from the sandy bottom without disturbing the water or bottom too much. Its hard for me to imagine that I actually could go longer than 2 minutes under water while making an extraneous effort to lift a 20 pound slab of rock stuck in clay and sand. It was no deeper than 10-12 feet underwater, but my cousin and the other girls were afraid of the current.

I’d usually help my cousin and dive one for her as well, but sometimes she was a bitch and it was sweet revenge to see her wash her clothes on a not so perfect rock or a boulder.

The best slab should be about 2-3 feet long and wide.

We’d place them against the roots of a tree if the river was overgrown or against a boulder, ensuring ourselves it was sturdy before continuing with our task. Optimal condition is when the river is a little overflowing, enough that the water is at or just above our knees.

  1. Hardest articles should be washed first, as to not tire yourself too quickly. Things such as jeans or towels. (if you were lucky though, your parents owned a small plug in washer for towels and blankets)
  2. You submerge the article of clothing completely, or you had a little bowl to use to scoop up water from the river to pour over the clothes.
  3. All about arm strength, baby. You sprinkle laundry detergent over your clothes and use every muscle in your arm to froth the article back and forth, flipping it over after your done with one side.
  4. Once it is all frothy and suddy, you can either submerge it in the water or use the bowl again.
  5. You twist and squeeze the article until it is barely dripping any water and you throw it into a clean large bucket, sack, or cart.

Maybe some will argue that this is polluting, but I’ll counter argue that polluting is when governments allow transnational corporations to use these same rivers to dump their waste.

If I ever went in the mornings, it was with my grandmother. It was like, a communal event to wash your clothes in the river in the mornings. Almost every woman in town would be there, if she wasn’t there already yesterday. Some would be done with their laundry for the day, sitting at the high banks breast feeding their baby or catching up with a friend or sister. Some women, mostly the older ones, would go shirtless or completely sans-bra. It was a safe place, free of judgement. No men. The only males there, if any, were under 5 years of age.


I never experienced anything as similar to that, and I don’t think I ever will again.

I can thank transnational corporations (again), narcos, and politics for that.

Hate men, mostly white, rich men. You ruin everything. I enjoy ruining your cookie-cut life.

06/04 – “Xica da silva”

Vanilla life has been kicking my ass the past 10 days, and I have a 6 day vanilla work day coming up u_u but it does end with 3-day weekend. Most likely will take a technology detox on Catalina Island.

Surprise, surprise. I got back with my ex.

We spent the last weekend fucking, and when we weren’t messing around we were out in nature, cooking, or watching movies. I’ll add that -I- fucked him first the night before I let his silly cock slip inside me again ❤

We talked the day after Father’s Day and put everything on the table. I don’t ask for much, but expect a lot. If that makes sense. I didn’t compromise (I’m not at fault lol), but he did.

Its upsetting to realize that I am profusely in love with this middle-age, capitalist white man. I used to be anti-white in my teens till probably 20; very Chicanx, a self-proclaimed socialist and vocal about issues in the brown community until my abusive ex broke me lol. I wouldn’t even engage with white bois unless it was to humiliate them.

I think in part why I am so enamored by him is because by learning about him, I learn somewhat more about white American culture. As a rule of thumb, I am indifferent towards all new white Americans that I meet. I think the brown narrative default is to hate them, but personally, they don’t deserve that much passion from my part.

I don’t even hate Trump supporters. I just have no respect for them.

I do hate the Eurocentric values that were forced upon us, and the patriarchy. The darker her skin, the more value I place on Her views and desires.

Race doesn’t even exist, its all social constructs created by men and the Catholic Church.

The whites wipe out races, animals, and ecosystems… how do you not deserve to be punished lol. White women have furthered racist rhetoric throughout history, so when it comes to the topic of feminism I don’t really care what they have to say unless they are speaking on behalf of Brown and Black womxn to reach a larger audience.

I do love my boyfriend though, because he is always willing to learn. He has said very insensitive things, but only because no one told him he was wrong and luckily he now has me to make him a better human being 🙂

Currently, I’m contemplating whether to add a minor or double major to my degree. I’m taking summer classes, working, and still have to study for the LSAT! I probably won’t be able to take the LSAT until 2022 it seems like at this rate. I wonder what its like to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth sometimes.

— H

walt whitman

Este es mi diario, de los amores de mi vida y mis mas íntimos deseos.

Aspiro poder escribir versos hermosos y impactante, para compartirlos y enseñar que bonito se siente amar y adorar.

Yo no quise venir a este mundo, no fue mi decision.

Pero al fin al cabo estoy aquí.

Creci en tierras calientes, entre el Sur de California y la Península de Yucatan. He visto al hombre mas humilde, y al hombre con mas poder y dinero que tiempo.

La vida me ha quitado todo, y me ha dado todo.

En mi corazón, se que voy en camino al éxito.

Quisiera compartir mi jornada con ustedes, para que vean como crezco y obtengo mis metas. Aveces siento que tengo el favor del universo, porque ya me ha enseñado lo mas feo de la vida. Ahora me falta ver lo mas hermoso.

El poeta Americano, Walt Whitman, escribió el libro “Leaves of Grass” durante el transcurso de su vida. Muchos veneran a este libro como su autobiografía.

Gracias Walt, porque usted me ha inspirado y usted me da ánimos en escribir casi todos los días.

Yo se que su libro era una obra viviente, siempre mejorando hasta que usted estaba satisfecho; o el día de su muerte.

En mi mente, hay miles de imágenes y memorias que reservo.

Unas buenas, que me traen alegría o placer; otras que me dan miedo y rabia.

Mi vida no es como los de los demás. Y por eso lo relato. Necesito recordarme que yo sufri y gane mi estancia, sino me hare una malagradecida. Y eso repugno.


The summers between us.

The age that I am.

At times, I wish that I never met you.

At times, I wonder what would be of my life now, if you were never in it.

I do not want to owe any of my successes to you.

We spoke on Father’s Day and we saw each other for the first time in over 3 months the day after.

When I saw you, it felt as if my heart was a field full of budding flowers that suddenly bloomed. I have only been a fool for one other man, and he ruined me. I fear the same with you.

I don’t want to depend on you. I don’t need your help. I don’t want to owe you anything.

I wanted to hear what you had to say and see if you were sorry. After an hour of hearing you, I asked “why” with frustration and a tear streaming down my face, and another ready to fall. I would have left if I didn’t feel you were sorry, I would have left if I didn’t see you be human for once.

Your eyes weld up while seeing mine, I don’t really remember what you said.

Thats all I wanted to see.

I want an FLR, I want a full and happy life with you.