dancing on the ceiling.

feeling no pain, you blast yourself into outer space amongst the satellites. when you feel yourself about to descend, you blow and blow. and blow. until you blow yourself back into orbit: you're happy now and life is grand up there. suddenly, though, you get bored with space and so you plunge yourself into the depths of obscurity. into the things hidden in the farthest recesses of your mind-- they become reality. nothing is impossible. you see it all. you feel it all. you sense it all. you hear it all. your eyes widen as the space around you turns to marshmallow. but this gets to be too much for you, and you begin to miss floating around in orbit. so you blow yourself back to space.


jiovanni said...

i miss your writings. nice to read a new snippet. i know london is filled with inspiration for some new writings in the near future. i look forward to them. love this one. i know that feeling of carefreeness (i don't think that's a word but you know what i mean lol).

vstar* said...

aaah, yes. i'm definitely going to write more. i miss it. i've been doing a lot of living, but not a lot of writing. but that will soon change.