I dream of skin flowing into moss, of bones sprouting blooms, of mushrooms encasing forms, of thoughts fluttering into moths, and of eyes as wide and blind as the universe.
I dream of decay and it is peace.
Now that my life has completely changed, I will be once again be going overboard with plants in a way to pretend that I have control.
Will my house become a jungle? Will I find my way out? Will I feed unsuspecting victims to my cow plant?
The world will find out, this spring.