I walked out into the sea ten years ago, but it didn’t work. I’m still down here. It doesn’t seem I need to breath. I just keep slowly walking. There’s choral growing out of my belly button, limpets on my nipples as if concernedly protecting my underwater modesty. Tiny crabs hide in my beard. You don’t want to know what’s going on down there. I’ve been walking for ten years
without stopping. I don’t know if I’ve walked around the earth or I’ve been going round in endless circles. I’ve stopped thinking too much.