The dead weight of your affections nearly broke my back, but I’ve spent my last day on tour with your psycho mafia. A thousand days was my sentence and each fell like a blow to the heart. Strange the thoughts and deeds that lead a man to despair – bitter the taste of recrimination that sticks to the gullet with barbed edges. Honed to the personal – only familiarity can breed such accuracy. You score a hollow bull’s eye with every reproach, but your anonymity does not hide the blade in your guilty hand. I’ll be your hostage no more. Your name sat heavily in my little black book so I tore you out and burned the evidence. I never knew you – you were never here. Go back to your lonely simulation of a life; you’ll find no refunds and no apologies here.