Sometimes, there are
dream of days when
trees aren't so hollow.

When I do not wish to live,
how can words leave a mouth
for actions to follow?

I will rot.
I will live
for hypothetical thought.

Nothing is real,
and the rain
will leave me  
to lose bones
and wither away
like a calendar
left to rot
with hypothetical thought
and empty plains spanning
light years
in length.

Just give me it,
******* it.
Give me the strength
for a collapse
spanning light years in length,