Who Am I? I'm not so sure. I know who I'm not. And that's enough for me.

I tend to behave like a Cat Girl child who was raised by Wild Wolves.

I know I like animals. And spanish. and sugar. I love babies and beaches. And Hair. And musicals. And Music.

I'm an afro-Latina. Proudly Puertorriqueña. Boldly Black. Simply beautiful. in my own lil way =]
I'm also a sister/daughter/friend. I'm an enemy to that which isn't for Life.

I am Feminine, not weak. Young, not immature. Ethnic, not exotic. Woman, not subservient.

I'm a lover. But i got some fight.

I love black. I love green. I bleed Red.

This spot should be as random as my life. And reflect some of the things I think/see/admire/whatever.

I read. I write. I'm Passionate. I'm humble. Lets Tumbl----

I’ve never felt 
so completely enamored
with anyone’s description of me—
Until you looked me in my eyes…
And told me that
I am the complete personification
Of Love and vengeance
At any given moment in time.


Some days the void within me feels so vast that I almost wish someone would have just given me the entrance wound in my chest to match hollowness under the smooth, physically unbroken exterior.

Some days the pain is so great that I know there are things worse than death in this world.

But then Other days I understand that pain is a reaction that lets us know that we are still alive. Fighting, barely hanging on perhaps. But we are not dead yet.

And I remember all of the things I would have missed if I had died ages before when I begged for it.

And I hold on, having faith that maybe tomorrow or next week there will be something worth waiting to see too.


on the upside…a girl at my job randomly told me my freckles were adorable.

no one ever notices I have freckles…my sister has a bunch….and my mom has tons. i had, last i checked. between 43-49 on my face [[someone actually counted a couple of years back]]

and i’ve always wanted more. i love freckles. i think they’re awesome.

buuuut no one really noticed them. except this one girl.

and for a second i felt special that someone was paying that much attention to me, randomly.


Superheroes..are some of the most special people in our imaginations. Human, just like us a lot of them….with emotions and vices and passions….but with extraordinary powers.

If they get lonely…if they are abandoned….If they struggle with trying to solve the mysteries of love and the need for human companionship….

well, I guess it makes sense that the rest of us would too.

Literally. some of the most amazing beings we can invent in our minds…who do the most astounding and mind boggling things…stronger than what we could ever dream to accomplish in our regular forms…

And their hearts break just the same….


I keep reading quotes from famous mouths…

telling me to find a person who looks at me as if I were magic….

Getting advice from others
To create opportunities and take them within other people…

But I’ve stopped believing in those sorts of things….

Magic is only an illusion

That’s the one thing you’ve taught me, if anything


I wish I could free you
Untie your restraints so that you could flex your wings at your leisure
And not just on the whims of others.
You are powerful, beautiful
Dazzling in your wildness
Your ferocity
Your strength
And you deserve
who will appreciate it too

Some day soon
You will live under constraints of your choosing
Fully satisfied
And aware
That you can leave, flex, and fly
Whenever you so desire.


I wish it weren’t cold outside

Or i wish the cold were thicker

Something sturdy and more tangible
So I could slide out of my window
and allow it to envelope me..
cradling my restless girl self
Like a velvety hammock.

Covered on all sides
By a deep bluish violet velour.
A sturdy ladder, perhaps
Which I could use to
Escape my warm natural confines

 And ascend straight to the stars…


Because she
and soft.
Because her folds
and curves
were rounded
and attractively colored.
Because her hair
reminded me of soft grass
for me to lay my head upon.
And because her smile and laugh
reminded me of fresh air
and warm sunlight.
I imagined that
She tasted of flowers
And of Spring…. 



you make me wanna
go on an acid trip
im still trying to find
the high
that makes me feel
greater than you
makes me feel
grater than you did
I want closure
I want
I wanna
Erase you out of my memories
The thought of you
either causes
grievous bodily harm
slight ecstasy
I really need a new trip
I’m looking for my new fix
To keep
my mind off of you
to keep
my demons at bay
I’m searching for a way
to chase the dragon
at dawn 


Meee aaand youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

settin in a hoooney mooooooooooooooooooooooon

when i wake up next to you
when i wake up next.to.you. 



I pray for your easy going
Your progress
Your blessing

At the end of the day
When all is said and done
please remember this

I do care
Because I do pray for you

Even though I stopped believing in prayer long ago
And have long since stopped praying for myself

In the event
That a few heartfelt words
Could possibly
Sway the world
And give you
just that little bit more joy…

I’ll gladly do anything.

to help. 


I’m the only Black latina in my Grad class—and the only female HBCU graduate

I keep fighting to find common ground with the universe
All of the other beings
Just don’t seem
To add up to me.

I am the does not compute
Your error code.
The one plus one does not equal two
The algorithm my roommate can’t figure out.

In a room full of outsiders.
Hippie, conservative
Literal liberal
quirky oddballs…
That I would feel like the other.

Even amongst nerds
In our quest for
The epic holy Diploma.
That I would still find myself
The Other.

Stranger still
That after fighting
And questioning
I find that the only thing we have in common
Is that we are all
English majors
Who love literature
And hate grammar

Except for two…

And that seems to be
ground enough
For me to finally try
and speak to someone outside of class. 


its always a little bit better when you do something like you’ve got something to prove

or maybe I just like things more when I feel like I’ve got something to lose….

that awkward moment when you think you might’ve liked the abuse.


My Girlfriend

My girlfriend….
Has Violet Eyes.
She stains her lips red
And lines her eyelids black.
Her hair is dark blue.

My girlfriend…
her eyes were made
to match
The lilacs that her mother raised
In her garden
Before her death.

 My girlfriend
Every day as release therapy
Uses her face
As a palette too
Says its better than using her body
The way she used to
Says its better to beat her face this way
Instead of the way he used to
Says its makes it easier to remember the way
Her lips would look
When she bled.
Less painful this way…just painting them red.

She remembers this way.

My girlfriend…
Everything up in a row
Is still secretly afraid to leave
Anything out of place
Swears that she will turn around and see him
Towering above her
Ready to strike
If she dares to leave on the bathroom light
Wakes up in the middle of the night
Hands raised
Trying to protect her face
Her eyes..
She still lines
From trying to hide bruises that have long since faded away

Her hair
Is dark blue
From all the memories she held deep.
In her mind
She’s a patchwork quilt of her very own life
But to the naked eye.
She’s just outlandish.
She tells me
When we’re sleeping
That she always liked the irony…the notion
Of wearing your heart on your sleeve.
But she would never want to say anything…

She whispers that a tattoo might be next 


I hate looking at Photographs

While they do tell me that you are still alive
and well

And while I am grateful for these things

Every now and then
A certain angle
a half smile
A turned profile or two
reminds me….

Of why I ever loved you in the first place
Which then prompts me to wonder
If i’m damaged beyond repair…
For good

if so…
Who wants damaged goods?