So drained . . .

Sat the whole day and i have done nothing productive.
here is a lame poem i wrote . . .

i scream at dreams
drive them away
heartaches seem sensible

i hop to the wise tree
and say hello
he rambles
on in endlessly
rhythmic monotony
of worlds and heavens
of stars and love
solitude and void
wise themes
from a tree thats seen the ages
but has he seen you
or have i lost my mind

clear nights
when the songbird is still
only air between
moon and me
i muse under my blanket
if your real
its all i do i guess
you know i invented you
fight the loneliness
i love
but your unreal
its all a lie
but if its not
i may die