Lloyd gave me this yesterday. He said he wanted to give me a kiss, but he gave me this. Next time, perhaps, next time. Now, i keep this close to me and I feel warm, which I need, being so cold outside, and I am scared I feel so warm. (I just notice now, the pages of this have little teeth on the side, they are cuttable. Do I have to, then, do I have to. To give away my pages, do I have to. ) I want to become myself, again and again, in this haunting repetition of memory. Where are you inside all this happening to me at this very moment. These are the best stitches. These are the best stitches ever. The ones I have from saying bye byes. The ones I will never admit to. The ones I have stitched myself with.

I want to be with this vulgar man that pucks me all night and does not care about me. I want to be with this terrible man, who sleeps deep and does not hear me dream. I want to be beaten up by this terrible man who eats all the bread and let's me be. I want to be with this terrible man who shouts at me and sets me free.

What an ashlock can you be. What a terrible creature. To leave me like this on a Saturday evening to never try to never cry to never admit to stay to come to hope because it is once only once to stay still it is sometimes twice of course twice it is sometimes false this twice. Do you know how to count? How to mount, how to be? Do you know how to round, how to bounce, how to pee. Do you know how to stay, how to lay, how to knee, do you know how to plead, how to bleed, how to frail.

I suggest we meet again when we are three inside the tree. I suggest we pack again, when we are three inside the tree. I suggest we stay again inside the tree till we are three. I suggest we stay still and we scream till we are three. It is a shame to scream when you are three. It is a lame to be when you are tree. I am in three in three in tree I am in piece in peace in piece.

How far have you saved. How far have you prayed. How far have you laid. How far have you craved. My little tree.