I swam toward nothing for a really long time,
mainly because I was told that treading said something about my will power,
or lack thereof in this case,
I could not do this for one more second,
not for one more,
With no intention of ever going the distance,
of crossing the English Channel,
this was all very useless and boring to me
There was no sex in these waters,
no smell of pheromones to remind me how to make bad decisions,
no lightning illuminating this winter swim of mine,
Reasoning was never my speciality,
certainly not when it came to my well being,
and this was nothing but a tributary,
a means to an end,
without a proper end
and worse yet,
worst of all,
nothing behind me that I needed to get back to
No comments:
Post a Comment