stretch and snap, like a chilli-red rubber band

dreamers don't have it easy. yet, we persist and we are always striving, always leaning and projecting and aspiring for something to fill the gaps- the void, the pockets of hollow that know for themselves all too well what is it they want. yet, what is it they want always remains a mystery. it is this irony and battle that i have to seek to placate. the baby in you, the baby in me. stretch yourselves, stretch and snap, like a chilli-red rubber band, like a chilli-red rubber band.

the massive array of possibilities entice and scare me all at once, urge and dampen, comfort and eat-away.

mighty insecurities, insurmountable possibilities which, well, eventuate in nothing.

the whisper of a hope, the whimper of thunder, the monstrosity of a rejection- how am i to levitate.

i love that word- levitate.

she thinks i need to flee, find my foothold in somewhere completely foreign. she said i am the type to ditch and run.

i say, why not?

the world is my oyster?

no, my oyster is the world?

i actually really like oysters. they taste like the soil of the sea, the heart, the essence of what the sea should taste like- earthy, salty, carnal, fresh, inviting, fossilized, mineralized goodness- heightened by the burst of lemony zest and the divine tang of tobasco. hmm, the oyster is my world?

how does Cuba sound?

*excuse my fonts, there's some prob and somehow i cant get it consistent with the rest.