• Hey, you.
    Last night, I dreamed of you again.
    You crawled out of your burning world, right out of the old bathroom drawer, and you pulled me into the cupboard under my sink to tell me all the secrets you could before hands grabbed you back up and tore you away.
    When it happened, your face didn't even change.
    Next time you visit my dreams, please remember to smile. Thanks.



    Hey, you.
    I went to The House today. It’s strange not seeing beers out on the table and smoke clouding around the nolongerthere beige lampshades. The walls look clean—It does a good job of keeping things together.
    I have to admit that it’s better to see It there than your mother and her millions of boxes and phone calls and clackity heels and expectations.
    I still don’t like It.
    I like Stacey better.
    And It has a cat. It looks just like my nenu, and I can just imagine how you would hate it if you could see it.
    Why did you hate my cat, anyway? He is just like you were.
    In fact, sometimes when I curl up with him in a sunny spot on the floor, I imagine he’s you. Or maybe fiveyearoldyou’s teddy bear Franz Ferdinand.
    I found him in a box the other day, just saying.
    He’s sitting on my bed.
    I was hoping he’d bring some light to dreamyou’s eyes.

    Hey, baby.
    Just thought you’d like to know that
    I met ItSteve’s androgynous mancreature.. I think he’s really the one with the p***y, but I was trying to be polite and keep my thoughts to myself.
    This is what I need you for.

    I was really hoping you’d come and smile, last night. I’d had a good day and I was thinking happy thoughts before I slept
    but you’re still moody little you, even in my made up world.
    What the hell, boy.
    I’m off to try again.
    I best see you.







    Hey, boy.

    You finally smiled last night.



    P.S.
    I think it’s because you know I’m right about Zip.
    He was sleeping with us.
    You love him—admit it.

    P.P.S.
    It's really not that bad.
    I think you'd hate It.