Hyperventilating is not fun at all.

Confusion of messages intertwine with each other, winding through the branches of the obstinate forest. Not one, not two, not three or four, but an infinite number of trespassers stomp through, leaving nothing but meaningless footsteps. From outside come spears, piercing through the heart of the forest's dark and hollow centre. The trees are forced to collapse, one by one they plunge into the deep forest's brown. Anything fails to exist, once beautiful and vivacious has now morphed into nothing more than an art of destruction.

The forest is my mind.
My mind if the forest.