i am waiting. just like everything comes everything will go. one by one. my tears will dry one by one. the fish will die, knots will come loose, my boobs will sag, my whole left shoe will become a hole itself and oh my god i will be able to take a breath and then it will start again. i will be waiting.

and why,
do i want to get in a shell
be a hermicrab
so someone picks me up
from the bottom of a sea
maybe 5000 miles away
(and i am so happy, delirious, because it was so secluded you know and slow and monotonous. anything could happen now, i'm going up up up, the sun is getting closer, where am i being taken?)
to a place, with air
but no more water
and no more food
(and oh no i cannot breathe, i am dying, i have to get out, good bye my shell, i have to go...)
then i get out, to crawl among objects unfamiliar, i feel dizzy yet i have to persist.
i am all dry, drier every second and i am getting smaller, less confident, an alien, and i shouldn't admit it
but i might be dying.
i want to be a hermicrab again.