Fallen into a Gallon of Milkshake

Fallen into a gallon of milkshake with the driest of hands. 

Summer nowhere near the crust of brimming wanderlust.

Sugar highs to pass the time.

Take. Take. Take. Take.

Connecting the dots from dreams
I might not have even had.

Am I living?

Looking into things that might not be happening.

I feel free.

I feel confined.

Feel. Feel. Feel.

There is too much and not enough all at the same time.

To confide without changing the vibe,
without changing the state of mind.

Truths, or just thoughts in general,
things that aren't even finalized

often come to punctuating things in an untimely fashion.
Writing conclusions
before I've made proper introductions