Viva La Stories


If you’ve seen my scars you might be able to count how many times I’ve suffered love.

Invisible to the eye but wound deep inside my heart. How high can you count before you lose your place?

I can tell you the look on your face was mine every time I fell in love.

Again, and again, like it was the first time again. Trying to heal my scars with men and mend. I bend and bend again and again. When will it end?

My darling I beg you, please keep beating. I need you.

I promise to never stop counting, again.

Peace Above the Surface

My thoughts keep me up at night as they tell me I should be ashamed with the way I’ve acted. I try to inject it with thoughts of reassurance and positivity because that’s what I learned in over 3 years of therapy. And for that I am proud. I am proud of myself for making it this far.

Although problems are never ending, I am happy that my internal dialogue now has a positive side to combat my negative thoughts about myself. And that is what I call progress. It’s taken a lot of work and still does, but the hardest part has already been done. The preparation behind the conquest over the seas of my mind has already begun.

Like learning how to swim all I must do now is to keep kicking to stay afloat. To me staying afloat is congruent to staying alive. Hoping one day I’ll reach a point of “guruism”, where I’m laying completely and calmly above the still waters of my mind. An oasis where all my thoughts remain positive. With the exception of very few negative thoughts too weak to wade the currents beneath the surface, eventually giving up before ever reaching the top.

Familiar Weather

Is it me or does this weather feel like love? Like a smell from my childhood on the tip of my tongue.

I’ve been hit by this wind before.

I have been in love in this warm and windy night.

My veins exploding with butterflies from underneath my flesh. It’s the wind who embraces me now.

This vessel which holds my spirit revisits all dimensions our loved lived through. Lost in space and time, this pheromoned air hits my face and brushes my hair— reminding me of a gentle touch.

These goosebumps erupted memories, caused by a nosy wind who witnessed our intimate adventures. How timeless our love felt in this weather.

I have felt this wind before.

It found me and came to ask when will we meet again.

A letter to Time

I’m left with these memories.

I beg you. Tell me, did they even happen?

I‘ve been victimized by the emotions tied to you so for that I demand your endlessness in return.

Lost in your universe I have slipped and fallen into your beautiful blackholes

Unsex me right now until all is bare and still

Have I been here before?

I have felt the results of your oh so righteous power

Your mindless conviction to bring an end to my moments. How dare you!

Answer me. Have I ever left this place? Oh silver tongued devil, whom I cannot hide from.

Tell our beloved darkness I said hello

Because of you I shall revisit soon enough.

So, adieu. Au revoir. Until we meet again

However long will you last this time?

Elevator to my dreams

I dream every night. And because of that I learn a lot about myself from my dreams. It’s hard to remember exactly how it began, but I guess that’s just the lesson of life. It doesn’t matter where you came from or how you got started. What matters is where you’re choosing to go and which paths you take. There will be many unwanted moments and stops along the way, but it’s having the journey itself that makes all the difference. Life is a lot like dreams in a sense, even if you have no idea how it’ll end, it all makes the journey worthwhile.

She’s part of something way bigger

I heard her call to me all day. To lay down my pain and suffering on top of her. And allow her to create something beautiful from it. She spoke in a small whisper until I got closer to where her voice could pull me in. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know what to do. I just had to do it. And do it on top of her. She told me what I had to do. Unlike any other voice in my life, when she speaks I listen, right away. She told me to show myself and all who are watching that she and I are part of something way bigger than the eyes can see, and hands can feel.

24 in Paris

Paris was such an intimate experience for me. I felt like I was home for the first time in my life. I honestly wished I could’ve stayed longer, but trust me I’ll be back soon enough. My spirit felt so at peace. I took this trip alone because I didn’t want to wait any longer for anyone to go with me. And I wanted this experience to be mine, as intimately as possible. This was my soul searching, self discovering, redefining my independence, gift to myself. And to do so alone and completely fearless was such a beautiful accomplishment. It truly feels amazing to have taken such a major step “into the arena” like Brene Brown says when choosing to DARE GREATLY.

The Voiceless Creatures within us

Honestly, the first time I really saw this it was upside down. And after deciding this painting was complete, I thought to myself “this looks a lot like the place spongebob and patrick traveled to when they fell asleep on the bus.” I wanted to name it the voiceless creatures beneath us, but as I started putting the pieces together on how I felt while creating this piece, I realized I was afraid to admitt “these creatures” were actually within me. And it shocks me, most times, the things that come out of me when I finally decide to create something. I definitely didn’t expect to paint this, but sometimes whatever it is —you just have to get it out. And I no longer want to be afraid of the darkness inside of me. I realize it will always be a part of me along with the vast of goodness I have in me. Both light and dark cohabitate in the milky way. So my creatures and constellations can share my soul as their space. Making me exactly who I am and who I’m proud to be.

Portal to My Soul

I felt I needed to listen.

Sitting at the window in an unfolded wooden chair, I felt the cool morning air of a Brooklyn Sunday morning. And I smelled freedom from the breeze as it brushed my empty canvas and caressed my nostrils.

I felt my soul speaking to my hands as they chose each individual color. I heard them playing telephone, and watched as they intermingled. I reenacted their colorful conversation through a plethora of motions with half a dozen brushes.

I chose to agree with their unorthodox directions and allowed the canvas to share with me of all its visions. And I watched it evolve into what it was meant to become. I became aware of the portal — as it opened the window and showed me my soul.

By listening– really listening.