i;ve been working on you. working on the fine lines. the details. that make something like the me of you. human. it isn't a lot to say. i am no machine. that my heart is a human one. and a brain. and all the pink and fleshy parts on the insides of skin that purr the whirr and turn everything up to eleven are some incidental gene mutation that makes me slightly different than algae. the neighbour's cat. there isn't any way other than this to go. now. because i wear clothes. and put my hands in my pockets. because i perform respiration. unconscious.

or maybe it's to do with the way fine eyelashes make like hearts and bat's wings beating.