Skinny!

By the time I make it off the boat and breakfast has settled in my stomach, I feel as though my shoulders are inches lower than ever and that regular sex could be something akin to cocaine in terms of addictive drugs. In a pair of khaki shorts and a paisley button down tied to make sure it isn't too big, I find the swing on the gazebo with my charcoal pencil and begin to lose myself in the sketches I've been compiling since I arrived.

I feel almost as if I'm stuck like this, that three days going on possibly four is an omen that I might be stuck forever, but with the remnant of touches all over my body, I'm hard-pressed to care and so I sketch and write and bow my head to my shoulder as I do, lost in my own little world.