Heartwork 



Self expression is not in the tattoos the clothes the hair 
it is the eye bags
the crooked fingers
strong backs
knobby knees
missing limbs 
yellow and crooked teeth 
the rolls of fate around the waist 
it is the phyical expressions of survial that tell what you do with your life 
the body is direct 
you cannot hide who you are 
who you are is what you do 
and it never started with you



The first time I learned what a man was capable of doing to my body 
I learned permanence 
In my unmeasurable infinite plethora of youth
distinguising and comprehending how long a life is unfathomable 
I learned the capacity of what a male could do to my body
Intention aside
The human idiocracy of biology 
the undertones underscores of that capacity riddled in a history untaught 
intention aside i learned permanence in my unmeasurable life 
i learned death and the haunting of ghosts 
the stain that cannot be washed out 
the stain that i learned can grow over time 
the stain on my skin grew because no one would help me 
no one told me 
and when I needed to protect myself I let it happen quietly and politely 
the stain that grows once it is stopped it becomes large and gaping and visible
physical self expression 
deformed notions of survival 



looking at the landscape

man is the sharp edges 

the fine points that pierce the skyline 

forming the rooftops and windows 

nature is round full 

not even the cliffs form the geometry of the human home 

the sharp squares of man 

they boxes we hide in 

nowhere in the landscape do i see such shape 

the shape line of the horizon runs on infinitely from my eyes never cutting down to the corner edge 

i am embraced by round shapes 

even the thorns rest their bodies on a stem supported by root systems and projected in the round flower petals 

the clouds never the same wispy round 

even the archways are reformed swathes 

The Body


A boulder rested on either shoulder enflaming and pressurings the muscles and tendons around her neck and shoulders
Tension from laptop work, sleeping in bad posture, poor posture
So busy but no energy 
She began moving and stretching around her living room 
Hardwood floor 
She stands up and pulls her shoulders back in great posture
The fire for relief made her push too hard in a downward dog stretch 
It did not crack the center of her back like she needed 
She overcompensated the inner tissues of her upper arm 
Pulling it sharp sadness buzzing 
Discomfort 
The popping and cracking 
Emulsion of movement 
Eagerness for relief 
Neglect of warmth 
Soothing slow 
She only goes for the cracks 
And yanks 
Downward dog
It is in the center of her upper back 
How much longer am I living in this apartment 
My back is so fucking tight
I was suppose to go swimming this week 
I finally got paid
I need these connections but there are bridges 
Trying to cross these bridges to the safe zone 
Suriving 
I can’t handle the pace I said I wouldnt smoke again 
She paces the living room of her aged and dirty apartment 
No rug because rugs get dirty too fast 
But no cozy and clean thing to lay on 
She hasn’t washed towels in weeks 
Dishes are left in the sink 
Maintenance of her life 
Looked like she
She ripped herself apart until she was dead 




The Unrequited Love of The Nature of Beauty anf the Nature of Taste in the schema of Western objective thinking 
The unrequited love of the idea of things rather than of their animation and personhood 
The practice of the denial of personhood in our consumption flickers and pervades in the romantic relationships with others and our possessions

the unrequited love of aesthetics will be satirical, philosophical, and sociological in nature 
there will be stories of people loving their belongs more than people loving than so much more that they are consumed by them literally in a violent manner they are can be eaten up like it was a monster 
the rejecton of nautre by confining it to process and the delusion of rationality 
we still study men at the greatest institutions in american that hated women and nature 




the way birth control defies nature makes me feel alien 
to my non human yet conscious and aware sisters 
the playground of human sex 
defying reproduction and dancing in pleasure
I think how sordidly I have expressed my anxiety, emptness, sadness, and disconnection with myself 
because of this technology the stops me from getting pregnant 
Accompany this advancement with the visceral media of porn 
As if I even knew what I liked 
In my freedom I copulated with males in the manner of reproduction 
With the intent of pleasure, release, and transmutation 
Absorbed in phallic fantasy I am a mutant in nature
 An animate being with a womb that defies impregnation

Would it be more powerful now at my age to refuse this device and reject sex entirely 
Is that not more of a statement to the nature of reproductive animate organisms 
Is that not more of a statement to the dissatisfaction (long-term that my sexuality has taken me) 
My failures, shortcomings, and dissapointments from male partnerships
I know I am not meant for them, yet I desired them
My desire has died like an open flame on a wax candle
burnt down to the nub 
Redefining eroticism is artistic in nature
But laughale to nature who is all and is all knowing
I imagine paintings now like from Oh de Laval instead of visualizing acts once experienced, already known, and priorly indoctrinated 
It is an exciting time in my life 
To intrepret that male validation is a habit not an aspect of my nature 
To see above it like a birds eye view
Who I will share my bed with next will be earned, negotiated, and if not sublime in the prior engagements it will never happen 




Rebuilding my identity cannot be within the imperalist western framework
it comes from seeking knowledge from the yaqui seminoles and potowani 
it comes from learning indigenous languages animate and inanimate 
i do not know where i am from beyond two generations 
Raised in america by child immigrants 
of course i got lost - indoctrination 
i am 24 and rebuilding my knowledge but i know nothing 

when they are alarmed that i do not speak spanish i return with a smile
they assume i am so american and assume i did not want to know it
it was a langauge from the spanish not my people 
assimilation it is representation 
same with catholicism 
i now take that moment and use that space of the absense of language
to remind myself how much my parents loved me
from the moment of their entry they chose to survive in this country
adopting and forcing english in their stomachs and mouths to survive
that absense of language that moment of misunderstanding i will not take accountability for 
i am a product of generations of survival 
and we needed to know english and this world to survive 
out culture lost generations ago 
we are rebuilding 
give us time give us space 



It is not about self-discovery

It is about sitting still and watching the clouds. Watching the clouds to bring yourself back. Achieving a state of calm by looking at the clouds. watching them move through the sky. passing you by. fluffy apparitions. Surrendering the site of large-scale abundant movement you sink into calmness and sinking in you realize your self is not real. And so if this self is not real why do you cry and scream. Why do you fascinate yourself with your misery and conceptualize your pain. The pain is what links me to everything else. Just as we are connected by the possibility of death and the necessity of breath. suffering is shared.

Self is transmuatable. As a concept and as a lived state of existence is death not upon us constantly. Constantly upon us as in this given soceity sense of self is beaten, forced into a mold. and we die and we die in order to survive in it. Releasing attachment to ourselve, does the grief subside. With attachment I cannot stop dying. A cyclical video game for the mental state maybe because I am gripped to no belief no philosophy and no truth. I waft in the water lifeless what is the way to fight. 

I want to hear my spirit. Her bones are rusted cramped and tight and i dont think she has consented to so much of my life. the rational the physical, the directions to be pulled in when you let the river take you, you are not yours to choose. Sometimes it is life i am letting myself drown i dont want to fight the physical battle anymore i will not win. Anger is not enough to succeed. Rage is but a consolation for deep sadness. 

Then there is the question of have i lost my mind. To assimilate is to survive and to survive is a skill. Diassossiation is not an escape from consciousness. Consciousness is only sensory. Refusing conscisouness is the opening for exploitation. It is compiling into a disturbing, deformed, horrifying monster that grows through consumption and we are feeding it with broken souls trained by minstentioned bodies.

I look up at the clouds. they are layered with heavy grey and shining white against vibrant blue. it is friday march 22 5:18pm I am sitting in a burger restaraunt on a stool facing the window distracted by passing cars and typing these words. 



it is friday march 22 5:20pm 

i am 23 i will not have children because i do not want to 
i will not marry because i do not want to 
people who i trust with this think it is a phase or a product of experiences that has made me “misinformed and tragically see differently”
I understand this decision as protest 
I am taking two societelly scared tradtions and rejecting them with a healthy and beautiful existence as a woman 
I have seen enough to know i will bring no life into this world from my own blood 
i reject this human world, i refuse to belief it cannot be better or will not get better 
i deduce we are subject to those who master violence, exploitation, and murder
I am dedicated to studying human nature. to making others understand ways we got here and ways we will never be free
in our apocalyptic hell in the belly of the beast 
i belief earth is but a challenege to do good 
i have already done so much wrong 
i wil use my heart my compassion and my knowledge and dedicate my life to understanding so i can teach
so i can help children that are already here
i can help nature that is circumventing our human systems and surviving 
so i can find the souls that see and don’t look 
i hope it will get easier i do not think it will
i hope i do not give up because i am going to be alone for the rest of my life
life is not about happiness 
life is not about wealth 
i do not fear death 
i am not religious
the mass population of humans are artifical and as good as plastic
who can look at a tree isolated in concrete with complacency because it symbolizes order
who can breed deformed animals and yank them by their neck
in the belly of the beast 
by any means we pursue the unrequited love of aesthetics
 



03/22/25 5:51pm 

I believe we can enter different realms and worlds from our thoughts alone
I am struck by the symptom in pyschosis that states 
  • delusions – false beliefs that are not shared by others.
i think it supplements conformative thinking in medical terminlology and can therefore pathologize cases of neurodivergent thinking that challenge normative or shame how one can lose their mind under the most powerful economic and milaitary systems in our world
reality is ultimately something that we choose btu we are shamed into uniformed thinking - murdered for it in political stages 
however humans cannot be trusted with this freedom 
profit requires expolitability conformity and consistency 
what is the goal if not materialistic 



the bunny got older than her and she loved her through a lifetime 

12/22/23 

We depart from this world with fantasies
dreams of the ocean 
dancing over planets
we leave this world 
it is abandoned
we have given up on the beauty it can hold
i fear nature is mystical past 
where can we go 
in ourselves 

identity as a performance to others
how do we perform for ourselves 

document motherhood follow a mom 

i remember when i heard that soreness meant my muscles had torn and were rebuilding themelves to get stronger

up until that point i played soccer for 11 years. i had never realized my years of soreness i wore with pride because it meant i had worked so hard the day before, started with damaging my body. 

i will never forget cracking a growth plate in my ankle when i was in 7th grade

undergoing an operation to sew ligaments in my ankle back together as to be less physically deficient for the college level the following year

stretching MCL’s in both knees when direct collisions caused them to bend inward

first 2 week long concussion senior year in high school  

the englufing buldging fire of a twisted ankle 

lower back pain in middle school 

a bruised tailbone 

my sister broke her femur 

all of those things eventually healed, my body re-invigorated itself
i was damaging my body for a competitive sport 

the one i cannot forget and that has never left was my career ending injury, a concussion. one that lasted 8 months 

i can comprehend it most simply as breaking 
i stopped working, i malfunctioned

how to separate introspection and ego 

we do not understand our bodies 

i am amazed at how much i used my body as an athlete without understanding how it worked

to go further i am ashamed for every adult that did not give me the space to feel pain, accept my pain, and deny me the ability to say no to using my body 

instead i and many other forced ourselves through sprained groins, sprains, and aching pains. 

i felt anger when my last injury changed me, i could never play again 

thinking about the denial of the female body.

its rendering, instrumentalization, and violence,

a historical truth and fact 

so i employed myself in this space as a child. i invested my time, energy, and health into this sport for what?

there is status in athletics

the community buy-in is cult-like, you have to buy-in or it all makes no sense

i remember when it stopped making sense 

i was so depressed i did not leave the house

i would get high all day 

and wait for my friends and roommates to get home 

i lost track of time 

i stopped relying on resistance to fuel me

resistance to a life of insigficance 

which i believe i live in now 

it is where calmness meets vulnerability 

it is strange that i knew i was embarking towards something bigger than myself
and everyone around me saw it as “losing it”

i changed too much and too fast in front of them to be able to understand that i was ultimately okay 

my own parents didn’t listen to me when i tried to explain this brokenness

i did not tell my dad for a whole year 

because i knew they would be make feel bad about my concussion 

it was the most alone i have ever been in my life 

i have progressed with that solitude in mind and it has changed my directory

it felt like i died and for some reason it stopped me from keeping parts of myself alive

let ego die say bye to senses of self 

i use to cry all the time 

i became fascinated with the body 
i started drawing headless realist pencil illustrations all the time 

as you get older and reach the higher levels you cannot take a break 

i am fascinated with the body and traversing the space of exploitation 

i felt parallels in the way i lost so much and gave so much to suffer in a sport

i had to shutdown my emotions

i had to not listen to myself when i was in pain

i had to force my body to do things that hurt

i felt like i had to endure uncomfortable sex

i felt like i had to endure emotional violence

this was the only way to keep my playing 

did they turn off that little voice when i was a child? 

consciousness subsconscious unconscious 

my home is my body 
my childhood home 
a dome where i saw raccoons and skunks murdered
materialism soaked into every corner 
i never cleaned my room 
i lived under piles of clothes 
because i was never home 
in the car 
to the field 
i ran around in soccer cleats 
more time in the car 
to the fields the weekends trapped me in 

and the way a boy pressured me to touch me and lick me like i wasnt the warmest bowl of cutard 

the way both those experience physically crippled me 

a moment of physical violation, discomfort, confusion  

with a remaining lifetime of relfection rememberance and loss 

the truth is outside of us because it was never inside of us