test tube eight ball

I felt out of control. Like sand slipping between spread fingers. I lost touch with reality, where everything was distorted.Breathe me back to life.Do whatever it takes to get me back on the other side, don't be scared to use a few chemicals and maybe a bit of romance.--------lazy grey mornings, people-watching from lab eight-four-biohazard, a shared warm bagel... one thing leads to another and they soon become lazy golden mornings spent in each-other's hold, people-watching from Marcy's room window and a shared warm kiss with a sesame bagel held in hand. what more could you ever want? other than out of this lousy degree that sent you spiralling? but would this sort things out? shake your eight ball and see, Anne.