Give it up punk, it's the fun lovin' criminals. I'm dated. It's been a month.

I clench my teeth and dream. There's a tiger. It jumps on my back and claws like yellow pearls dig into the skin on the back of my hands, encasing me. I can feel fur like a luxurious toy. But the terrifying claws.

I considered migrating to another address where no one would find me and I'd be free to say what I like. In the end what is there to say?

Every time I turn over I almost sit up. It's involuntary. My eyes find the tower. The first bat. Jasmine. So much sunshine. In the house. Sand on the floor. Feeling happy for no reason. Patrick White. Black tea from a big blue cup and feeling like the neighbours lower the blinds so that I can't look. Washing in the machine for weeks. September gone.

I try to be more like Miranda July but my fingernails are dirty and bitten to bleeding.