tw: DV, nc, rape, abuse


you are not the gorgeous hunter in the story, but maybe you were in your youth.

I am constantly thinking about you, only because I am trying to forget you.


I hate it when a brown or black man leaves his brown or black significant other for a white woman. As they say, “when he gets on, he’s going to leave for a white woman”

I had never thought too deeply about my skin, until I met Eladio.

He was an afro latino man and a few shades richer than I. He looked like a bronzed god whenever he was working outside on his yard or car. At 17, to me he was what a man should be. He had just turned 20.

At 17, I was already a romantic. I was enamored by life. I was able to find poetic beauty even in the ugliest things.

At 17, I was outgoing and the opposite of shy. I was the one who started to flirt with you. You weren’t very receptive. You later admitted to refusing to believe that I was indeed, seriously flirting with you, so you just ignored me.

One of my friends told you that I liked you. The beginning of our story was very playful, almost cute.

I realize that its the relationships that start from meaninglessness and nothing that evolve into passionate affairs.

You were my first love. Serious love. Strong love. It was a love that struck me and made me blind, deaf, and dumb.

Our love was something that honestly should have never happened.

You courted me, spoke me to on the phone for hours almost every night, telling me beautiful verses before I go to bed. I felt like I was living an Aventura song. Your love made me feel like I was a princess and you were my prince.

We started dating a couple months prior to my 18th birthday, and you convinced me to live together.

The first night living with you, reality set in and I refused to accept it. You raped me that first night, and afterward I was just in shock. I didn’t understand why you had to force it when I was so willing, just not like that. I had just turned 18 that week. We didn’t celebrate.

What I lived with you was like an epic poem. I cannot tell people the full details and extent of it in one go, because a quick relay of the story does it no justice. You built me up and destroyed me for 3 years.

You lied to me, flirted with other women in front of me. You destroyed my self esteem.

You crumbled my dreams and aspirations.

You made my life a complete misery for 3 years. I am still trying to build myself so no one can ever hurt me like you did.

I never hated my skin until I lived with you.

Whenever I was about to leave for good, you would switch it up between begging and bawling, on your knees, pleading for me to stay or insulting me until I couldn’t go outside because I was too embarrassed to let people see the state I was in.

Crying into my shirt and feet, as if you were Mary Magdalene and I the messiah. Begging for my forgiveness.

Throwing words that struck like knives, piercing through my skin and embedding themselves into my heart and soul. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, holding my ear close to your mouth telling me the most degrading things. Dehumanizing me. Making me cry until no more tears came out. Making me cry to the point I was gasping for air.

No one knows the extent of damage that you have done to me. You take the medal for the man that has most hurt me. The trophy for the most disappointments, that one belongs to my father.

You said I was ugly, and that no one would want me. Already down, you would say nonchalantly that a Güerita is waiting for you and in a heartbeat you would have her living with you instead of me. You lied and cheated on me more than once, and your friends, always covering you.

They would only tell me things when they felt especially bad for me. It was so embarrassing to go out looking for you on an empty stomach.

Why did I deserve to live that at 18?

You are gone from my life for ever, and every day I work hard to make sure I can elevate my lifestyle to a degree that seeing you again is an impossibility.

“When he gets on, he’s going to leave you for a white girl”

Every time I fuck a successful white man, I win. Because those white girls you fucked, were trailer trash and I feel silly for ever thinking they were better than me.


Me animas cada mañana que me saludas

Gracias por despertarme en las mañanas con tu caloroso abrazo,

Besandome la cara con tus rayos.


Por mi tez morena,

Por alumbrar mi vida.

Quisiera adornarme con tus rayos, para poder resplandecer y compartir tus besos con mi alrededor

Usted que da vida a todo en este mundo,

entiendo por que lo veneran como Dios

rich white people can you stop taking shits in impoverished countries? because we are going to lose the remaining patrimonies humanity has.

my only solace is that the earth will not mourn you.

when will you reach your fill?


I wish you were lapping the honey that flows between my thighs.

Me haces falta. Quisiera que estuvieras aqui.

Te comiera entero, como si fueras un bocadillo.

Me encanta verte, sentirte

ansioso por mi

Ven aqui,

lamba mis deditos. chupa mi miel.


tw: DV, rape, nc

frustrating to switch between two languages, two mindsets, two world views on a daily basis.

while comparing my two worlds, I can begin to pinpoint the reasons why I enjoy hurting the male sex.

My favorite Mexican idiom is “amárrate los huevos”

Literal translation = tie your balls.

What does this mean? Why would someone say that to another?

Latin American culture is defined by its patriarchal values, first-born son shit, “women are meant for fucking, babies, and other mundane tasks” BS, and its fascination with cock (literally).

Amarrate los huevos.

It means to pull yourself by your bootstraps, to discipline yourself so you can get shit done.

Its an inference to castration, an allusion to being docile and obedient.

I like doing race play scenes with people who are also of my same “race”- just because I know where to jab.

Latino men grow up thinking women owe them. Their mothers cater them well into adulthood, until they pass their useless sons into the oblivious and caring hands of another – their son’s wife/S.O.

love is blind they say.


I never thought I would see myself serving a man or being someone’s bitch and near slave. But I lived that experience early at 18 and I would rather not experience anything similar to that ever again.

Speaking of huevos, it brings to memory a moment from the worst chapter in my life.

It was evening, I had just gotten off my stop at the corner up my street. People were coming home from work, friends and families were walking down the street, strolling and enjoying the night’s fresh air. All I could really think about was how I was off later than what I had told Him. I am exhausted, from running up and down the plaza and restaurant. But I savored the rest of the walk home. That 5 minute walk was my relief and escape.

He would often say to me I had the “easiest” job. Neglecting and ignoring the blisters and calluses on my feet from the 12 hour shifts I would do, day in and day out.

I arrive home, tired yet again, wanting to shower and sleep. It seems my ex has company over and I have to compose myself and smile, because no one wants to see how miserable I am. I make them uncomfortable, He says.

With a fake smile plastered on my face, pushing my discomfort aside, I go ahead and greet everyone at the dinner table, my heart sinking immediately after realizing that they were waiting for me.

The table was set up, but there were no signs of cooking or baking, and no Tupperware’s indicating that this was a potluck. My heart sinking deep into my stomach after understanding that tonight’s performance and service was my cooking.

He’s sitting down, presenting me to unfamiliar faces, holding me by the waist. He was proud to show me off, proud to show others what his bitch could do.

With swollen feet, I excused myself. There was no need for him to explain to his company where I was going because He knew I was coming down stairs in minutes again. And I did, the first trick I did for his friends’ entertainment. 4 men and 1 woman in my house. Not including myself, because I felt more like an object than a human

Most of his friends took pity on me and said they weren’t hungry and were ready to head out, but asshole #5 stated he was famished.

Being a slave is worse than being a whore.

As his friends excused themselves for them evening (minus asshole #5), He essentially began begging them to stay but they politely declined.

The woman in the group had been over a few times, but has never looked me in the eye. She knew, but I don’t blame her for not wanting to involve herself.

Being ignorant helps you sleep easy at night.

I stood by His right side, him sitting on the head of the table, holding me by the waist as him and his friend laughed at misogynistic jokes quite literally in front of my face. He then looked at me, which was my cue to ask,

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

There always was a positive response.

I catered to 2 grown men from 8pm to Midnight. I had pushed my threshold, I was nearing collapse. My feet tired and swollen from standing since 6am, but I became numb to the pain by 10pm. Every day, I was amazed by what my body could withstand.

There are times I wish I was weaker, so people could expect less of me.

Once company is gone for the night, the routine was as follows:

“Open your legs, open your mouth”, thrust, thrust, thrust.

It was easier to give in than to say no, struggle, and get taken anyways.

There were nights were it was over quick and he was soon asleep.

Other nights, I wasn’t passionate enough. A strike to my face or bloody bites to remind me who I belonged to.

I would cry myself to sleep often.

each time, he rips my wings off. how could I fly away?


Not sure how I was popular on my old blog, but I feel it was because I continuously talked into the void

I bull shit too much through life, but I digress.

I’ve been thinking a lot about of one my exes, Julian, who literally begged me to not break up and who consistently tried to win me back. He was not a perfect boyfriend, he was lazy and had little aspirations but he had an innocent heart.

He hurt me a few times, with stupid shit and I stayed because he would give an effort in trying.

He was fun in the beginning but he did a lot of head-ass things, to the point he became unattractive to me. Which was crazy, because a lot of young and older women (lol) found him attractive and would try to flirt with him in front of me. But I knew I had him so wrapped on my finger i didn’t care. I wanted to end it because I could no longer stand to feel his lips pressed against mine.

After we broke up for good, he came to my house the next day. I told him to leave and he said no, unless I agreed to get back together. He thought it was just a tantrum I was throwing, but truly I had met someone else I wanted to try with. I was very mean to Julian, humiliating him and destroying any arguments he had as to why we belonged together. He looked on the brink of tears as he pleaded me to take him back.

“How are you going to ask for me back when you have nothing to offer? How can you say you want to win me over yet come to my house empty handed?”

And this boi heard this and left. I gave a sigh of relief but the show started again when he came back 20 minutes later with a bouquet of sunflowers to offer me.

I just threw them at him.

And I told him that it was done and that he could not offer me what I wanted. Which was true, I begged HIM to go back to school continuously while together and he never listened. So why should I listen to him.

We last spoke in February, probably before Valentine’s Day. I thought Maybe he wanted to be friends, which was false. So I gave himhis last blessing and haven’t heard from him since

I deserve to feel what he felt. I accept my pain


I am retiring my running shoes, Nike Zoom Pegasus, in size 8.

However, as a Goddess, I would like to give a slave bitch the opportunity to have them, to use as objects of worship.

My stats: 5’5 ft/168 cm, 135 lb/61 kg

I am a Southern Californian Brown Queen, love to be active and treat my body extremely well. I believe my maintenance of my body and skin makes me worthy of worship. Therefore, the shoes that are blessed by feet are worthy of worship as well.

My average runs are about 3 miles, I run approximately 3-5 times a week.

I love how my sweaty feet smell, not gross, but pungently sweet like me 🙂

Would love to have a foot bitch worship my trash and treasure it.

Running Shoes

Women's Nike Zoom Running Shoes, size 8. Retiring them as they no longer service my Feet as well as they did. Used by me to pound pavement and dirt trails for miles. Please email me or contact me in my form so I can ship them out to you. Extra charge if international. Will be used for jogging one last week prior to sending.


poesía 1

estoy tomando y pensando en ti

por que me tratas así,

si sabes cuanto te amo y deseo.

como el humo te evaporas de mis brazos,

unas noches conmigo, abrigándome empapándome con gotas de tu agua.

y por las mañanas te desvaneces.

por que me haces estor amor,

si sabes cuanto te amo y anhelo.

environmentalism and wyt men (very non-kink)

White men think that buying at Whole Foods and Sprouts, using reusable stainless steel straws and hiking gonna save the damn earth…

no bitch

use your fucking money to assist others

I used to think white men who cared about the environment must care as well for the indigenous people residing in the most vulnerable places with the nicest ecosystems

but truly white men only care about wildlife and fuckall for the human race

what has changed? absolutely fucking nothing

you colonize, rape, take and take and take throughout the centuries

when will you reach your fill?

when will you be satisfied?

all white men do is take and take until nothing is left.

you care about the environment for your own selfish gain… for the chance to vacation there.

my family’s land is not your vacation center, you brought drugs and firearms into my land,

took my woman, traffic my people, exploit people’s vulnerabilities for your own capitalistic gain

white latinos also benefit from the system

and just so everyone knows; I will defend the most helpless and vulnerable to death. and perhaps myself I do not identify as black, but my grandfather was AfroCubano and his family were once slaves on plantations so I understand that black people throughout history and in most parts of the globe have suffered @ the hands of white men!!!!!!!!

if you reading this, donate to George Floyd funeral, or to a non profit that assists immigrant children.

send me a pic of your donation and we will talk.