Coconut

I used to live in a coconut. That’s what they say. Living in coconut flesh. Cracking open. With a machete. So that there is nothing left to do. But sit on the beach. I used to go to therapy. But now therapy lives in me. Like a locket. Lost in the ocean. Always at the bottom of the ocean. Tumbling on the ocean floor. I went back to therapy. It was a week after September 24th. She told me I’ll never go back inside. There is nothing left to do. Except live anywhere. But a coconut. I went back to therapy. I tell myself it means nothing to me.