I was planted. My father took me out o the beach and all I remember, or should I say, what I told happened is l hit my head and lost consciousness. Later on a medium told me: you were planted. You died under the age of 5 and another life took over your body. Then I started taking ginkgo biloba pills to improve my memory and all I remember is having those vivid dreams. In one of them I was told: write. I know it was the devil. I tried to write. I’m unable to find my voice. Often times my voice is a gift to most women. I worked in radio. I could’ve been a great actor. I lie. But never been able for people to understand a word of what I say. And I wonder who is ultimately speaking. The presumptive dead child or the monster compelled by the devil to keep pulling chords of an unheard gospel lost in a maze. As this music flakes into an ear not even animals are breed to posses. I wander into this joke while I keep watering this grass that is long time gone.
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