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“Messages”

I write messages to God. I write messages to Satan; I write messages to everyone everywhere.

I tried to stop but I can’t – I don’t know how to.

Maybe there’s a noble part of me that can explain all this.

It all started way back when I was still a musician.

I was working on an album you see; I spent hours in the studio, all on my own.

My lips were aching for someone to talk to.

So, I picked up the phone and called her. She didn’t answer.

I emailed her later that evening, a day passed, and still no response.

With an increasingly growing concern; I sent her a text message, I couldn’t stop.

I know what I’m supposed to believe: that she died in that car accident as they are saying on the news.

I just don’t want to believe it’s real. It can’t be real, it’s too sudden, too unexpected… How can she die before me?

She was supposed to be the mother of my children, we were supposed to get married in Atlanta and get old together in London…

It’s been years… I’m still writing messages – messages that are intended for her.

Massages that keep me awake at night, messages, messages, messages…

Messages that have become a mad man’s hobby!

Yes. I admit I supply a massive amount of written content where there’s no demand for it.

Please forgive me: it’s the only connection I have left between me and the girl I believed to be my one and only.

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