THE SEAT BULLIES THE WORDS (# 74,963)

Chose a chair. Any chair. And listen…words are acoming. This given day I sit on a piano stool. Behind me sits a piano. I cannot play, yet semiquavers are at work in my pelvis thumping silent symphonies into my central nervous system. Later I cycle in the wet and get home to find a transcription of the shipping forecast on my shorts. To test the theory threefold, I go to sleep bolt upright on a bed of nails and wonder if I’ll wake up to hand-scrawled 2009 draft of the Bible…or simply a sieve for an arse.

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