Cancelled Weather Of The Fourth Season

I'm thinking of jumping
off of a tower,
never mind,
the thought subsided,
I've already resided to being
a coward high,
midst flowering sky,
my thoughts will exhaust no more
besides
“my, oh my,
this is really high
and there's quite a long flight time
in front of me to climb”

Toppled off of
top of
concrete stack
I'd lean back and write rhymes,
attack lines
hoping my words reach heaven
like jack's beanstalk did
with surprise vines,
as I plummet
reclined
with the ground beneath
me laying wise
and permanent,
it does not deter me a bit
or make me try to resist
gravity, cept' when
I flap my arms flabbily in jest
after jotting
something
down
shabbily on my quest
whilst atop
depressed
wind,
what a high up drop,
what a cold railing

and frigid world,
emptiness swirls,
any gust of me
is soon to be not,
doomed to see rot,
branches mine, to remain untrained
Winter, spring and summer have all drained and
gave
sprain,
claimed their names,
Fall remains yet
to be fought,
we're falling now,
and quick, falling how,
as shriveled leaves with spectacular spots,
this shaded plot of land
hands out plots, evil and proud,
I may never come down
I'm sickness coughed, a parasite floundering