Danse Macrabe, Op. 40

I just need a few words to start me off and I'll be running.
I made the mistake of getting out of bed today, I'm not looking for sympathy because fuck that. nearly every step today is as unbearable as the last one and as where I've medicated myself to the highest highs I still am clear thinking and in pain.
Lying down now and resting after a long day of doing nothing with nothing and not in a good Buddhist way or Taoist way either I wonder what I really need. I am convinced it is a few words - the right words and I'll be off running. the fingers long to fly at the typewriter no matter what my little thigh thinks about it.
I long to do the tango in the kitchen.
I long to drink coffee whilst laying down and not spilling thus burning my hairy chest.
why are Breast and Chest spelled differently at the est part? Maybe it''s that since breasts are universally nicer than just a chest they get an extra A -
the red walls bring me focus and I notice a small drip in the paint.
Checking with the TSA I've learned that I don't need any medical documentation for the medications, my ortho Frankenstein shoe or the metal in my leg. Interesting, I thought to myself, and said aloud - well, that's done.