does grass growing sound like my heart beating?

gentle gentle gentle gentle. that word is stuck in my head. gentle. gentle. the sound of waves crashing on the rocks. the sound of boots crunching snow. the "and i am So. gonna keep it that way." at the end of the poem i watched on youtube yesterday. Everyone should go look up George Watsky. Amazing.

i'm starting to believe that maybe we have mental connections with people
so when i'm at a dream-place and feel your hands in my hair so truthfully,
maybe it feels true because you feel your hands in my hair also;
maybe our minds are both at the dream-place and just don't recognize each other.
i imagine i imagine
holding you close so i could hear your heart beat
though maybe you hear mine beat from far away
like the faraway drum, either distant in place or maybe in time
distant in time
or beating in time with the speed of my imagination
which is still in that dream-place
a dream-place of habit
or maybe of excitement
of truthfullness that might never be true
but sure as hell feels good.
and somehow isn't hurting me because
remember the weird things i used to wish for on dandilions last spring
when the flowers were first coming up
and the rocks smelled good
and i never did homework anymore?
yeah, a lot of those weird things happened
and passed
and getting what you wish for can be like putting on a cowboy hat
something you never thought you'd do
but fun in a certain way. And it feels truthful
in a certain way too.

am i even allowed to write this kind of poetry anymore? maybe i'm not being fair, maybe i'm just
me.
and maybe i should be working on the paper i have due tomorrow. yes that.
and my brain will shift back to gentle gentle gentle gentle gentle. i don't know where that's coming from. gentle. gentle. gently.