Tell me why?

I sit here...and i wait.
What is waiting? But maybe some missed opportunity of action.
Action, decision, control and courage.  Active thought, active feeling, active faith.

The longing, the stretching of an impulse, and the beating of a desire. 
Why sit when you can stand?
Why hold when you can run?
Why fear when you can love?

The fear that has ran through all of us. 
Fear of not being the one.
(is there one?)
Fear of losing,
(what?)
Fear of hurting,
(it's not enough).

As clouds surrounding, drowning, caressing the vast sky,
I look at the sun in rapture. 
Excited, aroused, euphoric, in ecstasy.
Your rays hit me hard,
give me a little shake,
give me a little quiver,
jiggle.

Do not wish to be common,
do not wish to be flawless
(cuz i'm not).

My colors to sparkle,
my light to penetrate through you,
fearless.

Fearless and active.
Why sit when you can stand?
Why hold when you can run?
Why fear when you can love?

Fía.

HEART

I am known to be stubborn, headstrong, maybe a little obstinate...but really I like the word "willful". 
It is the beautiful mix of being quite idealistic, sentimental, passionate and romantic (this goes beyond love affairs) with being very practical and oh-my-god following what and where i have set my eyes on. 
Stand away, because if necessary i'll push you, scratch you or out-wit you until I get it/there/you.

I think about this, and yet there is an element that I know is key to my determination.  And that is my heart.  As I type this out I hear a squeaky disturbing voice saying here you go again with the heart business.  But it is so utterly true and important, that I apologize to all of you hard-headed people. 

Heart that guides my way.
Heart that makes me jump,
spin,
swirl,
cry,
laugh,
long.

Heart, it is for you,
because of you,
to you
that I am me.

A beats that startles,
a beat that paralyzes.
beats that rise when making love.

Heart, i love you.
Heart, i feel you.

I pledge for your honor,
for your safety,
for your strength.

I kneel down.

Heart, i love you.
Heart, i feel you heart.

The warmest feeling to lay on top of you,
and feel YOUR heart. 
Our hearts. 

The laying beside you, 
watching you,
your neck 
slightly 
moving 
to your beat.

Heart, i love you.
Heart, i feel you heart.

Play a Record.

We all have certain songs that touch our souls, that make us a little bit more sensitive,
that make our necks curl a little, our pores reach out, our temperature rise or fall...

Music is touching souls, just like it might be a soft lip encounter, a projectile look, a playful touch.
Music is intense as dark chocolate, a rich red wine, a clutch, a take hold of, a passionate grip of another body against yours. 
Music is free-ing, as a window-opened road trip, a mountain, a view from the heights, the wind. 

The combination of sounds, rhythm, frequencies, silences make us travel. 
Travel,
Travel to places we like, we yearn, travel to places we fear, and yet are mysteriously attracted to. 
Fatal attraction of what is forbidden, where the impossible might just be able to squeeze in--and it haunts us from time to time, slipping in for a fraction of a second, making us tremble. 
Tremble, 
Tremble at the thought of it taking shape, for granting it even a possibility.
Possibly, most definitely shaking us a little, making us lunatics, thought-less, yet so incredibly powerful. 
Powerful,
Powerful of devising this malicious plan, deliciously mischievous, which has no desire to harm or make anyone/anything break.
Break,
Break the abstraction of time, create a new dimension with no limits, for a second, a tiny tiny second.

Music does it all.
Close your eyes and shake, tremble, stretch...stretch that thought.

Drink a whole case of wine of you,
Play a whole game of looks,
Take hold of you close and strong.

What record do you have on right now?

-Fía.

JUICIO

Sin juicio,
sin PRE juicio,
en realidad sin muela del juicio.  Ése es mi status actual. Sin una, la superior-lado izquierdo.  
Un reverendo hoyo en la encía, zurcida con un hilo obscuro.

Lado zurdo de la cara levemente hinchado, dolor punzante, malestar en el área del ojo hasta el mentón. 
En conclusión: tengo todo ese lado tomado. 

Es increíble lo limitante que puede ser la molesta consecuencia de una extracción molar.  Y yo, a mis treinta años, sacándome algo que en realidad pareciese ser correspondiente a una etapa adolescente-púber. 

Desde lavarse los dientes, succionar cualquier cosa (yo, ávida consumidora de un rico mate matutino), sonreír, hablar con full expresión, tirar un beso, cantar una canción, saltar, bailar, correr, andar en bici. 
No, no, no, no.

Y por qué muela "del juicio"? Claramente conozco más los casos de la gente que nunca ha tenido juicio (pues no le salieron), y otros que tuvieron y como buen dentista-gasfiter se lo sacaron de una. Creo no conocer a nadie que tenga sus buenas 4 muelas. 

Y aquí estamos, des-juiciados, comiendo papilla, compota, helado...hinchados como ardillas.

En todo caso me ha hecho pensar en hartas cosas: algunas bastante superficiales. Pero mi primera reacción a mi malestar actual-- cómo habrán sufrido aquellos parientes míos desde la época de las cavernas con un dolor de muela, y después extirparla a cuero-pato! Batallando con infecciones, hinchazón, comidas no muy aptas (o sea, cero licuadora, mini-pimmer, procesadora). 

También pienso en la palabra juicio.  Se utiliza con varias acepciones: 
JUICIO (Del lat. iudicĭum).

1. m. Facultad del alma, por la que el hombre puede distinguir el bien del mal y lo verdadero de lo falso.

2. m. Estado de sana razón opuesto a locura o delirio. Está en su juicio. Está fuera de juicio.

3. m. Opinión, parecer o dictamen.

4. m. Seso, asiento y cordura. Hombre de juicio.

5. m. Pronóstico que los astrólogos hacían de los sucesos del año.

6. m. Der. Conocimiento de una causa en la cual el juez ha de pronunciar la sentencia.

7. m. Fil. Operación del entendimiento, que consiste en comparar dos ideas para conocer y determinar sus relaciones.

8. m. Rel. El que Dios hace del alma en el instante en que se separa del cuerpo.

Leed con atención.  Y es bastante complejo el término.  Desde "enjuiciar" hasta fomentar el juicio, confiar en el juicio natural humano-- que yo creo corresponde a la generosidad, compasión, amor, comunidad.

Seré ingenua? Quizás. 

O muy idealista? Tal vez.

Pero creo en la bondad y en la belleza.  Y sé, creo y siento el poder de la energía positiva. 

Estar despierto, estar presente, actuar. 

Que el juicio no sea sólo un concepto mental, una idea sin cabeza ni pies ni corazón.  Que tengamos conciencia de nuestro poder y del don de tener juicio. 

Lo digo con una muela menos, en pleno dolor. 

Es así como pienso también que éste pequeño dolor (que me afecta muchísimo, pero ni se compara con otros dolores de alma o dolencias físicas más impactantes)...éste dolor me regala el momento de tomar conciencia, de utilizar mi juicio y simplemente agradecer.  

Es en éste contexto donde me encuentro ahora: recostada, baja de energía, con un foco de dolor, un leve desgano y sensibilidad de alma.  Así estoy, y lo siento y lo quiero sentir. 

Gracias cuerpo, gracias mente, gracias corazón.

Gracias juicio.

Fía.

Soar

A song sang by two.
A breath of two.
Voices that create a heartfelt tune. 
The space between.

Life.
Death.
Living. 

Sinking into each other,
falling slowly,
swimming in flight.

When eyes close and it's not black.
Giving in and giving out.
Discovering all the corners.
Fingertips.

A recipe of life:
1 ounce of pain,
5 tablespoons of desire and lust,
1 cup of smiles,
half a teaspoon of fear (optional)
mix, blend, beat with memories.
Spice with lips, hugs, caresses.
Fingertips.

This all sounds very amusing, this all sounds very clever, but what is the true recipe of life and living? My biggest fault has been trying to figure it out; sprung out from the mind,  the rationale, and what I have been taught to follow as a life.  
A life of what? A life of success? To whom? To what? For what? For whom?
Recipes, steps, instructions, dots to connect, lines to fill, answers to circle.

Moments of clarity, those moments when you are just flowing. And you feel it.  Feel it with the wind, with the sun, with your hair, with your neck and your hands.  There is no struggling, there is just game. Playing the game, surfing, traveling, rocking, singing, dancing, shouting.  

The butterfly of life and death. Both wings carrying you through. The limit is so subtle, so preciously frail, delicate. It flutters together, and this capacity of living is the same capacity of dying.
Live a little, die a little.

Live fully, die fully. It is absolutely inevitable.  
               Yet, soar.  
                    Soar.
                          Soar.
                                 Soar.
Take flight, lift up, and fly to the sun to get burned. 

Melt your skin,
ache to the bones,
and become fertile ash, bountiful soil, food for newcomers.

Soar.

Waking the Dead

In moments of rest (because I've had them) questions commence to haunt me like old wise souls. Clouds travel to me, through me, and from me, touching me in ways that are unrecognizable by my physical body.  Yet, I am touched nonetheless. 

Questions, words, ideas, smells, images, colors, tunes and rhythms. 

Lying looking at the ceiling and feeling the overpowering space between me and maybe some other curious star.  Cuddled on my side staring at a trees shadow on my wall. It dances with the wind--shaking off its old rusty dust, becoming bright green ready for more sun. Surrendered to the floor, on my belly, side of my face on the ground.  A melting drop of oil, beating.  I can hear my heartbeat, I dance with my breath, and i thank for being here and being part of the earth-- just like any other little creature that steps my same earth. 

Shoes, boots, sandals, heels detach us for where we come from. 
I place  the soles of my feet on the generous ground.  It is there to take me (you) in.  We are also stems that inhale and feed off the soil and water.  We are also leaves that shine and grow with the sun, and dance with the wind. 

Fingertips touching my own skin: feel eyelashes, feel lips, feel knees and hips.  Wake your touch and know thyself, love thyself. Feel, thank, and love. 
 We are being told not to.  To cover, imitate, deny, copy and curse for our so-called faults.  Shake it off and think of the wonder of being one and only.  One and only. Beautiful one and only.  A box of paints that can color and sparkle and twinkle just and only like you. 

Wake the dead of beauty.  Wake the so-feared human spirit.  Wake the so-called dangerous emotions and playfulness.  Wake the daring, wake the risking, wake the long-held tears and voice.  A voice that can sing, yell, howl and laugh in all it's colors.  
Wake the Dead.

Mandala

A circle.
A universe.
A drop of sap from the tree of life.

Entrances and exits.
Lines and curves.

I often wonder what made us step away and yearn for control.
Where did the original fear come from? There is no sin, there is no offense and no punishment.

But there came a time when we stopped the natural beating time of the earth, when we felt a sting, when we became cold beyond temperature drop, but deep in our soul.  When we stopped being tree, bird, air, water, dear, bear, fish and fire. 
There came a time when tears became salty and extremely scarce. We reserved the drops almost exclusively to those of our kind. We made it clear we were a "kind", and not just another. 

Time was now to be used, not prevailing.
A touch of palm, a stare, silence became a threat.
Having nowhere to go, but still traveling and moving.

Our children must be trained,
falsely under the concept of education. 
We are soldiers, not creatures of this earth. 

When was our soul so painfully removed from what sweats, breathes, cries and dances?
We are a circle, each one of us, belonging to a bigger wheel. 
A pattern and design of your own, yet belonging nonetheless. 

A circle.
A universe.
A drop of sap from the tree of life. 
That is who you are.

PIECES OF YOU

Shine a ray on me and i shall be a prism of colors.
Like water of a shallow surface I am clear yet full of vitality.
Zest, spice.
My tongue can burn.
Sweet and soft.
My lips can heal.

What is the big deal of numbers and keeping score?
I don't care of how many, i don't care of how much,
I care of being.

This being is beating for a chance.
This being pumps the blood of desire and feeling and tasting and squeezing every drop.
This being is pounding for touch.

What is to be done?
Where else is there to be?
Near,
Far,
of you.
Gone,
Here,
with you.

The wait is a ticking bomb.
Yes.
Tick-tock-tick-tock.
When will the last tick be heard?
Where will it catch us, burning and melting in each others skin.

Prism of shades.
Crystal of light.
Break me down,
into pieces of you.

Nameless

there is heaven,
there is earth,
there is hell.

Better,
Good,
Worse.

A measurement to this,
a measurement to that.
It's all in the numbers, it's all in facts.
But what if i believe in stars?

I speak another language, I listen another dialect.
I believe in hands and touch and eyes and looks.
Who is following me?

The taste of your tongue can be so sweet,
yet careless movements can cut diamonds and make everyone bleed.

I wanna feel free,
I wanna make you feel free.
The wind is in from Africa, and I can feel its heat making us all dizzy.
Tentacles that take over our heads, over our feet and over our hearts.
African beat of heat so sweet.

The wind,
perfume,
vapor.

Sillage.
What is yours?
Mine of roses and smiles and color.

Intoxicate me with yours.
I dare you.
Now.

Naturaleza

I'm a river.
You are a river.
We are a river.

Let us flow...

You are a rock.
I am a rock.
We are a rock.

Let us climb...

I am ice.
You are ice.
We are ice.

Let us melt...

You are fire.
I am fire.
We are fire.

Let us burn.

Stardust, heaven, explosion, light, fire, flame, seed and sprout.
Earth, water, currents, depth, darkness, uncertain.
Wings, winds, tides, float and give.
Arrive.

Pendulum, momentum, journey, balance.

Burn me, burn me, burn me.
ignite my skin.
I'll burn you, lift you, twist you, craze you.
burn us up and down.

River, rock, ice, fire.
Flow with me, climb me, freeze me and burn.

Three Little Birds

Three little birds outside my window.
Just like Bob Marley sang soulfully. 

Sitting under the sun, barefoot.
Opening my toes letting the rays bathe my feet entirely.  
I inhale through my soles.
Inhale and arc my back in response--wishing and waiting for you to come and steal a kiss away.

And I dream of walks on clouds of green. 
Of humid floors that shake and shiver.
I seduce the air around me, and I know I am being seduced back.

I spread my toes and the wind tickles me,
it travels through me like intoxicating smoke,
I feel taken, I surrender.

We must do a little more of that, surrender.
Compassion and surrender.

Three little birds, come to my window.
Sing me sweet songs, of melodies pure and true.
I'll feed you strawberries, water and honey.
Jasmine, honeysuckle, hyacinth,
I'll be the flower you wish.
Come close,
Smell me,
Pull me close,
Inhale me,
caress,
brush,
suck.

This is my message to you-ou-ou...

KALEIDOSCOPE

I pedal my way through the streets of my neighborhood, where I feel I travel at the speed of clouds.  I look at the leaves and the patterns they make as I rush past the trees. I'm inside a kaleidoscope.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
I picture myself on a boat on a river, 
with tangerine trees and marmalade skies...

I can feel my breath.  I can hear the panting, which is quite arousing.
Panting and my heart pounding.

Blood rushing inside, through me,
sweat traveling down my back, around my neck.

I travel at the speed of light, my mind has left me,
my fears are gone. 
Come here, right now, and i'll take you.
Right. now.
Right. This. Instant.

Clouds and leaves and trees and skies. Panting and blinking and sweating and licking.
Time exists to take it, life is here to walk it and taste it and staying awake to what is out there to grab and hold with your hands tight and firm and knowing that even though it won't last between your fingers forever it is in you with you for you right now and there is nothing to fear nothing to yearn or wish beyond what is there for it is all there already just open your eyes and see that it is not that difficult to notice that wanting and having is really there to feel it and taste it and smell it and kiss it and kiss it precisely strong and firm yet soft and sweet just like that vibration you feel surrounding your skin exuding your pores as your body comes close so dangerously close to that other you feel so energetically attracted to so you can have them hold them rub them breathe them squeeze them caress them push and pull them with an overpowering hunger. 

Take it
take it
take it

it'll make you point your toes and shiver and lose your breath even if you are heavily breathing because that is what desire comes down to, to the thought and feeling of being invincible of being right and yet so wrong and hot and yet so cold and in the moment so intensely it all seems a dream a hallucination a speck of gold star dust which reminds us that that is what we are: dust and star and star and dust and that those tiny unrecognizable particles are you and me and us and we have found each other.

Kaleidoscope.

Today

My system was madness.
I felt beheaded.
Didn't know up from down,
right from wrong. 

In this crazy vibe where blood was all that guided me.
Go, go, go, go, go, go.
This hummingbird was high on some flower,
Unknown.

I want(ed) to go far.
Farthest I had ever been.
I want(ed) to misbehave,
allow my back, neck to flutter.
Tip-toe my way in,
quiver.

Go, go, go, go, go, go.

I read a description that made me howl:
crash into the sky, swim in a sea of molecules, burst into flames.
Burst, blasted, burned.
The yearn of skin. 
Of heat, or breath, of moan, of groan, of wail and whimper.

Do what you want, 
do what you please.

Do what you will with me...
Shakespeare speaks through me.

Beheaded yet focused.
Conquered yet full-forced.
Fearless and ready.
Take your best shot.

Go.

And so..?

and you would come,
and i would be sitting, under the sun feeling the sun rays on my forehead.

and i would be thinking of you,
and you would slightly touch my back,
and i would shiver,
and you will make sense.

and you would maybe look away,
and i would backbend as to not lose sight of you.

and i would not hurt,
and you would curl your lip,
and i would come closer,
and you would..?

and you would dream of me,
and i of you.

and all the and's are not enough,
and all the and's will make a truth?
and so i hope,
and so i yearn,
and so it is.

- fía.

Muse

There is this soul,
there is this aroma,
a specific skin and,
peculiar eyes.
It spins me around,
takes my feet off the ground,
crushes me,
builds me,
makes me high in solid ground. 

Finding a way, where there is no way.
Energizing me, where there is yearn for sleep.
It is a dream, but i'm wide awake.

I travel.
A shooting star in another galaxy
taking me far, but at home. 
Is this even possible?

Drive    Purpose,
Stubborn     Drive,
drive me.

Surrendering   flow,
Drive   Direction,
Care me not,
drive me.

Inhale me,
i'm yours.
I'll treat you good.

There is this soul,
haunting me.
There is this...
i call on you.

O muse thou art,
O thou, i'm yours.

LA REVOLUCIÓN

Ésta es la revolución de los sabores.
La revolución de los sentidos.
Explosiones de dulce, salado, ácido, amargo y picante.

La revolución dentro de mí.  
Que el agua me quite aquel velo transparente.
Llenos de colores estamos. Llenos de burbujas excitantes, cada esquina un descubrimiento.

Ésta es la revolución de los sentidos,
te invito a saborearme,
inquietarte con lo que encuentras...
dimensiones de pasividad,
vibraciones de locura,
pies descalzos.

Mi cuello aquí está y exuda mi olor a piel.
Corazón en la mano, corazón en los labios, corazón en la mirada.

Ésta es la revolución,
sistemas a desafiar,
programas a renovar.

La revolución de los sentidos.
Sube mis decibeles!
Súbelos! A bailar!

Ésta es la revolución de los sentidos,
pues a sentir!
Ésta es la revolución de los sentidos,
de ají, canela, miel y cacao.

Giro, giro, giro,
en signo de lucha.
La fuerza centrífuga exuda mi sudor.
Giro, giro, giro.

Ésta es la revolución de los sentidos,
La marcha.
Madre coraje soy,
Digna.
Colibrí en vuelo.
Néctar.
Lengua de mariposa enroscada.

Ésta es.

--Fía.

Speak

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
- sonnet XVIII
Master Shakespeare

This sonnet is world-known and commonly used.  Still, beauty is beauty and every time i read or hear this sonnet i am completely seduced.

I am a romantic. 
I believe in language and the passionate word.  
I am a  fan of vowels, consonants, imagery and rhythm. 
I fall for music,
I melt.

I had a teacher that always stated: Say what you mean, mean what you say or SHUT UP.
Amen.

I love every single part of this statement, but i encourage and defend the first part: say what you mean.  Do not hush your heart, do not hold back, speak it all out.  We are always careful of consequences, almost programmed to the point where it comes before the thought or feeling.  Protecting ourselves, and those (who?) watching us. 

I say: fuck judgement. 
Forget politeness, forget it--for when the heart speaks, from a place of love, from a place of truth, it'll all come into place. 

I speak from the heart,
I speak from the time when candles burn,
when the streets go silent and the stars are our companions.

I speak from my skin,
when it calls for hands and yearns for contact.

I speak from my mind,
as it lets go from rush hour and commitments, 
but becomes the wild creative voice.

I speak from my feet,
tired of the pavement but ready to run from fear.

I speak from within,
all of me, 
all full of love, me.
I speak from the faith of possibilities,
I speak here, there and everywhere,
even from those "weak" moments when we let our impulses and instincts GO. 
Where i dare to say i miss you, it's you i'm thinking about, and i want to shout i like you and that i wish you were thinking about me and wanting to see me and maybe wondering where i am, what i'm doing, who is with me, because that is going through my mind right now.

I rather say it, I rather write it, speak it, than be afraid of what's, why's, who's, where's, what's, and ultimately oh no's.

--master Shakespeare speaks for most of us at times, but we hold the same courage, the same inside wealth of heart, and soul yearning to love.

Fía.

Mountains of Pink, Streets of Blue

Through the windshield I come across a landscape that paralyzes me for a second.
The fact that moments like this still hit me, blows my mind.

I drive through the busy streets, where the pavement is a deep color blue, almost deep blue sea.
Look forward.
Up and ahead the Andes are pink: from rose-pink to red-wine.
Unbelievable. 

I look around for an accomplice in natures beautiful crime, and I see none.  
I see bodies, shadows, walking, crossing the street looking down.
Why down?
Look up! 

Sunken by the deep blue pavement. 

Mountains of pink up and ahead. Pink up above to the clouds. 
Where the light is found, where freedom lies and floats and smiles.
Feet of blue, hearts of pink.

White dust.

This is some lucid writing from a NYC based yoga/meditation teacher.  Some thoughts to share, ideas to communicate and hopefully allow further connection with who is reading...

All is impermanent. Everything wears out and breaks down. We can all agree on this, but emotionally, we want and expect permanence. On an emotional level, we resist change, impermanence, and death.

At the everyday level of frustration, we experience impermanence and use daily activities to shield us from our fundamentally ambiguous state of affairs. We expend a lot in order to ward of impermanence and death. We don't like it that the body changes shape, the senses deteriorate, and the mind fails. We don't like it that we age and will die. We are averse to wrinkles, sagging skin, thinning or grey hair. We use products as if we actually believe that our skin, eyes, hair, teeth, can somehow escape impermanence.

We all know we will die one day, but at the same time we have the habit of thinking that things will always be the way they are now, so in reality it is very difficult for us to imagine the truth of our own death actually happening to us.

The aim of Buddhist teachings is to liberate us from all limitations and to remove emotional blocks to happiness, compassion, and wisdom. Accepting the truth of impermanence isn't becoming negative or adopting a doom and gloom attitude, it just means we begin to see through the illusory appearance of things. Accepting the truth of impermanence also means we start to eliminate the habitual thinking that has made us so naive so as to think there is a way to escape uncertainty and death. As the truth of impermanence slowly seeps into our awareness, we gradually and wholeheartedly relax into the inherent groundlessness of our situation.

The fear of death hits us all,

The fear of letting go,

The fear of losing,

The fear of missing out. 

I see death as part of one big whole.

A wing of the magnificent butterfly called existence. 

A wing, so fragile and yet so forceful.

A little wing that allows us to fly.

Just one wing, for it's partner needs it for take-off.

This partner, called life is its mistress.

Its mistress, its lover, its inamorata, its beloved, its wife.

Both translucent, both covered by the magical gold dust of faith.

There is no life without death,

nor death without life. 

To think of such thing is a delusion.

See (really see) life,

Welcome (really welcome) death.

This does not mean don't live life and wait to die,

but live life and live death.

It is 8 am in the morning, the day is foggy and i feel i am in a world of white dust. 

I can barely see my tree neighbors, the mountains nearby. 

It is Friday, and my eyelids hold a heavier weight than any given Monday...

Yet in this misty, fuzzy, vague cloud I feel the clarity, smell the insights of the Buddhist teachings. 

Fía.

CONCERTO

when do we allow ourselves to bathe in our own breath?
feel like a drop of silky oil
surrender to the compassionate earth
and beat up and down in truth?

let it rain
(even if it's our own tears)
clean us away 
or tinker with our skin.

Bathe me.

let the song of those with us,
far, close, here and already gone
be heard.

Seduce me.

let me synchronize with your lungs
sway with you
undulate, ripple with you.

My back with yours
my hands find you
conquer slowly.
You are the sweetest 
rise and downfall.

what if i closed my eyes 
and felt you here, breathed you all the way here?

i'm oil
in.
i'm oil
out.
i'm oil.

i hum a little birdy song
a tiny concerto
tiny tiny.

-Fía.