I'm on a roll; I'm letting it out on my own freeway. By this time tomorrow, I may shine and I'll probably call. Through this winter snow, they act as the chill in my cereal when I drunk too much milk. It carried an honor roll of a grade; it's out all for all the people I don't know. You don't know.

In my heart of rows, I can't even remember. We're on my plane trying to see if we can stay afloat, and I'm looking out trying to see if any clouds are around.  Soon, I'm sure, I'll be up like your mind after taking a hit from this strong shit. Someday, I'll be like the looking glass that has it all figured out.

I swear my broken circle can still contain this mess of a square. 



Well, look at that. I can write pretty nicely without being depressed.