In a world of my own

I am feeling very wishy-washy as of late.

I do not feel like working. I’ve been back for a week, and all I can think about is my vacation.

I want dazzling sun, blue skies, faint breezes, and the sound of the ocean pounding into the sand.
I want Bermuda shorts, flip-flops, hot pink toes, and no responsibilities.
I want blended drinks with tiny rainbow-hued umbrellas, smutty books, and no idea of what time it is.
I want beach volleyball, sand clinging to skin, muscles rippling, and tight young bodies.
I want naps in gently swaying hammocks, coconut scented suntan lotion, and Jackie O sunglasses.
I want thumping bass, gyrating hips, and bedroom eyes across the crowded dance floor.
I want bare flesh, butterflies, and sensuous sex on the beach.

I want to be away from here.