The paramedic thinks i’m clever cos i play guitar. Halfway down high street, Andy looks ambivalent, he’s probably wondering what i’m doing getting in an ambulance. Reminds me of the time when i was really sick and i had too much psuedoefedryn and i couldn’t sleep at night. I get adrenalin straight to the heart, I feel like Uma Thurman post-overdosin' kick start. I’d rather die than owe the hospital till I get old. My throat feels like a funnel filled with weet bix and kerosene and oh no, next thing i know they call up triple o. I’m breathing but i’m wheezing, feel like i’m emphysem-in’. My hands are shaky, my knees are weak, I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet. I feel pro-active, i pull out weeds, all of a sudden I’m having trouble breathing in. Sunflowers, bean sprouts, sweet corn and radishes. I wanna grow tomatoes on the front steps. The nice lady next door talks of green beds and all the nice things that she wants to plant in them. ![]() ![]() Life’s getting hard in here so i do some gardening.Īnything to take my mind away from where it’s sposed to be. We should ammend that, I pull the sheets back, it’s 40 degrees and i feel like i’m dying. The yard is full of hard rubbish it’s a mess and I guess the neighbours must think we run a meth lab. It’s a monday, it’s so mundane, what exciting things will happen today? I sleep in late another day oh what a wonder oh what a waste.
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