A tiny musical tale.


John’s fat mother

John’s mother was convinced she had an influence on the weather. She had very bushy eyebrows that were linked in the middle and her backside

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They keep me sane, the voices in my head, I won’t survive without them. Some sound angry, they have their reasons they say, some so sad, others are close to insane, most just go on and on about love lost and sex had and lonely nights with cold and broken hearts.

I have my favourites, I can’t lie. I single them out, they’re the older ones, the ones I prefer, granted, they have been with me the longest, we have been together for so long I’m not sure where I end, where they begin.

Now and then a new voice will pop in out of the blue and surprise me, it is delightful and I can’t help it, I will fixate and get swept away for days, for weeks I’m lost and sometimes a special one or two will find a permanent place in my head.

I’m in love with most of them, we have our own guarded love affairs, our secrets, fantasies only we can know, they sing and sway and serenade and I sit in wonder and drink in each note, each melody, every intoxicating lyric. There’s no end, no reprieve for either, what we have is eternal.