(with your scientific index finger, slowly)

(with your scientific index finger, slowly)

inspect these mirages around you

and from time to time
de-stabilize this flurry of images, as you
try to bring them into focus
but also take note to respect
their individual refractions

Wait, wait!
try creating a vertigo of faraway

((( cyclones ) ))

(yes, if you think about it,
the wings of butterflies actually
vibrate in
a circular fashion)

so set yourself
to it and disperse
the older air

and reveal
oh! this :) morse-coded oasis!

(with your investigative littlest finger, curiously)

twirl the hair around you
these overly-safe straight locks

are imprisoning

make them curl around their own edges,
~soften~
bend them at their knees, then
surreptitiously,
bring them closer to your nose as you
identify their every conditioner and odour

(with the tip of your nose, and toes, stretch)

into the ripe air
until you hear the cracking of your bones
for this will teach you
not to be too dependent
on that non-ergonomic armchair as you erect
a posture that condemns that claustrophobic
sinus to a sacred pastime

(get real! snap out of it!)

stretch out,
stretch it all out

the tips of your thorns

those over-ardent facial hairs

the layer of nothingness that seems to be
always ready to jump off the surface
(leap, I'd say!)

these tension-filled calf muscles

and boy, who can forget
those erotic synapses!

as you reach those climaxes
repeatedly! ~ (:)

(get real! and snap out of it!)

THIS IS THE MOMENT!

let's face it: nothing is real
except this bundle of stretches
but only when they
form these relentless contours on us
with these
criessmilesjumpsdropsand
breaths

slowly-but-surely
we are carefully made-up
as if every ‘me’ is a building
as with every 'you'
rooted still
yet
forever stretching, until there is nothing
more to touch