That diner we would sometimes eat at has closed down. Walked past it earlier today and there were old newspapers plastered over the windows. Just before, some guy handed me a pamphlet about Jesus. He didn’t say anything, just smiled as I passed him outside the library and that was it. Right now, it’s in my coat pocket where it’s been since that very moment. Might look at it tomorrow. Or maybe when I’m next drunk. Had a dream about you the other night. There was lots of flesh involved, and insects and honey and dirty bedsheets. I don’t think about you as much as I used to. Well, no, I do, but not in the same way. You’re not the centre of my world anymore, you’re more of a force. A ghost. An imaginary friend. You’re a symbol. Perhaps a muse. Truth be told you’re many things, but I shan’t be telling you because this is how I roll. After my run in with Bible John, I suffered a nosebleed while stood in the post office waiting to send my letters. It reminded me of your menstrual blood. I’ve always had an aversion to blood, but yours was okay. That computer game store- the one I refused to shop in because of the Irish woman who worked there who always looked at me funny- that’s shut as well. It made me smile, for a while. Watched ‘Requiem for a Dream’. That Jennifer Connolly- her eyes and eyebrows strike me as vaginal in appearance, much the same as yours, and this I appreciate very much. Soaking in a hot bath, I can see a pier. The ocean looks so pretty, and you with that smile of yours, you seem so ethereal as the buildings wave hello just how they used to. Somewhere just out of frame, there’s a young girl waving too, and as she skips upon the wooden planks, time as we know it falters.