i had to write something.

Sometimes I focus so hard that the glass disappears and I'm between the leaves.
Strange, how I only like them when there's a filter.
They're dying, and so am I, but aren't we all,
and then the sky's this color blue like steel in a storm
and I'm the horizon and I can't ever stop.
Hello? I can't talk now. Not to you.
Because we're not we, we're you and --- me,
and I'm in the trees, just trying
to find my pulse.