I wish I could pinpoint things inside of my head.  Its my peace of mind and I can fill it with whatever I please.  I guess you could say that I’m down, but its not like last time.  I’m not sick to my stomach, I’m not feeling terrible.  I’m just not up like I should be.  My comments may not make sense but art doesn’t have to make sense, going to the bathroom doesn’t have to make sense, reading a book doesn’t have to make sense, walking doesn’t have to make sense.  They shouldn’t be able to control what I listen to and what I look at but they do.  Round and oiled is what you are, common I’ll drive you in that muscle car.  Internal fuck-up.  Too bad I don’t want it!  Whatevs.