With salty-silver protection missing the sun on my toasted skin.
Loving the nocturnal palms and the sand in complete darkness drunk with the smell of eternity and white maternity deep into the blue darkness.
I am death and gravity doesn't exist my blood is warm tequila like the sap of the ancient mojotes trees who tell me stories of the ones who came first when there was no human sound and most things sleep after the atardecer.
Layita sleeps in her house with no doors or windows her soul exposed to the public on the stage of life.
The houses made out of palapas sleep with they hearts illuminated by candles and life that depend on the mar and coco de aceite.
The cemetery never sleep surrounded by orange and lime colored palm trees.The dead heroes come out to tell bloody stories that the sand absorb.
I am slave of the sand which tide my feet up like soft shackles to the grown in my anxiety of flying and drink the air that taste like coconut water.
The wind is soft and thick under my wings that started to wake up. my feet don't touch the ground but my hands can't touch the clouds of silver and copper.
My body convulses in a swirl of deaf air that takes me up to sky without passing the palmas and then alight me on the soft invisible sand.
Delirium of color after a dark-blue night and i am reincarnated into who i am, alive and invisible again.
I claim my name and accept my destiny and absorb the color of my village with no people because they can't see me and i don't see them.
mokita.
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