From This Dense and Drippy Rainforest

Kneeling in the bramble I can see the tomb where my soul rests. Crunching in the darkness. There are songs lifting Faintly-lit leaves. Airborne and then some, Shooting off into distant galaxies, I just have a hard time finding socks. Not matching socks, Any socks. What am I doing in all this bramble? Oh, right! I'm losing my mind just so I may find it again And be friends like before. Hey, it's not like that. We get along alright. The tomb is starting to shake now. (You know, the one with my soul in it.) I love the sound of your voice, by the way. I get it, you're just reading this And I've never met you, But your voice makes my chest burst into A million little animated blue birds! (Sidetracked!) Seriously I do get along with myself, Though the cultural differences can be a challenge. I don't expect you to understand. (But I wish I did.) Writing is like throwing a frisbee, Thinking it's a boomerang. You have the intent of control, But man that hand is flying! Okay I'm making my move now, About to steal back my own soul From this dense and drippy rainforest. Ugh, swimming through giant leaves. The tomb is empty, guys. Filled with everything I ever needed. (Well that's a dumb ending.)