perhaps it is close. perhaps not so much. perhaps it is the same.

beat the heart a few times. different speeds, so things do not get boring. blicked with eyelids. made hair grow (not so good about the locations anymore.) Hurt. just a little. where the scab stopped healing for a few days now. breathing in. and out. worked with the plants a bit this morning. some are not doing so well. it has been a long winter and we worked out a bit much too late in the season. they are ready to get out of the house again. some are. i can't let them go there yet. we need each other right now. cut one of the lime trees so much it hurt me a bit. it was like cutting a nail with the finger. too much. the jade tree is now just six plants. the smallest one died recently, turning itself into food and some odd looking stuff. the trees behind buildings a few blocks away now tend to shimmer in a almost autumn shade of yellow. these are the buds that are going to explode in just a few days, or weeks. then the particles of the trees will enter me through eyes, mouth, nose, and we will cry together. pure happiness. the plants will finally get out of the house for the warm season. the pigeons will come to try to eat whatever is out there. and i will beat the heart. and grow the hair. and i will also breathe in and out. and listen to the blood rushing through whatever part of the skull that is closest to the inner ears. or maybe a universe far away.