Friday 2 January 2015

Don't Panic

I must stop tipping over. Must sit up straight. Remember the way you're supposed to place your pelvis. Wash more. Drink and drink and go on drinking enough water. Learn another instrument. String out sunbeams. Evaporate. Chase fewer clouds.

Must put myself in more high-up empty spaces. Fall out a plane. Climb a mountain. Stop forever putting myself down. Ride a bicycle backwards and in so doing undo my million mistakes, spoke by stokey spoke. Lean over and say: climb out/relax.

Must not swear as bastard much. Must stick to the rules more. I need, oh, need some bloody money.

Get up in neons. Lay down in print. And with real fire perhaps. Learn how to control that lip quiver. Sleep better. Take a new career. Stick to one thing. Spread the old wings. Make friends and get back in touch with every single one I've let down. Shape up. Ship out. Pull my socks up. Stop falling down the stairs. Tuck my obnoxious tongue away. Get proud.

I must must must relax.

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