Remember trying to blow smoke rings
in my bed, and how
you always looked after me
when things got rough,
but you couldn't look after yourself,
white found it's way up your nose.

Now it's gripping your brain
the money and the glamour of it all.
I can't see myself in you,
barely yourself in you.

To be in love is a disease,
relying on drugs incessantly
and I can't breathe when I see him,
he's not even talking to me.
I know in myself he's not worth ****
but it lives in the depths of me
the feeling of utter worthlessness
hopelessness and jealousy.

There's no bedcovers on my duvet
I'm just wallowing in my own
sadness and illness
and I can smell you in every inch of this room.

I'm going away, maybe I'll stay away,
but homesickness is so hard to remedy
when home isn't home anymore.