They all ask me to jump
to invigorate and to play soccer,
to run, to swim and to fly.
Very well.
They all advise me rest,
they all send me to the doctor,
looking at me a certain way.
What happens?
They all advise me to travel,
to come and to leave, to stay,
to die and not to die.
It does not matter.
They all see the difficulties
of my surprised bowels
by awful X-rayed portraits.
I do not agree.