The Father i Don't Have

Once,

in the heat and gloom of summer,

i dreamt that i had a father who called me

sweetheart

and

princess.

In my dream

i had a goldfish in a bag,

which he held for me

when i asked him to watch me rollerskate,

which he did proudly.

He loved me,

this father,

and he liked to read old books and make sack lunches.

He didn't mind that i only wore petticoats and bloomers, corselets and camisoles

(he was not embarrassed to be seen with me)

or that i put metal studs and spikes in all things leather-masquerading

(he had me spike his loafers, and he drew my first tattoo).

He told me, before i woke up, that he loves me for who i am.

Always remember.

:he said:

Don't ever forget.

i woke up this morning due to a voice in the wall. i heard it once before while i was masturbating but i thought it was just part of the fantasy i had created. i don't think i was masturbating when i woke up, but i heard the voice anyway. i know it was not a delusion, because the cat was sitting and staring at the part of the wall where the voice was coming from.

the voice said that it's been here for some time. watching me. sometimes feeling me while i sleep. its ready to make its next move, it said. so it thought it would introduce itself.

when i asked what its next move was it wouldn't tell me. it only smiled. it was the first time i'd ever heard a smile. you'd think it would sound friendly, but it didn't. it was grating. like two pieces of broken glass grinding against each other.

its going to make its next move soon, now that we have been properly introduced.
it likes my skin, it said.

it said it will be nice.