i notice if there was a constant
it was you-
you blamed me for your
madness
that was quite a recurring
theme
all  through the confusion
and excess
you were sure of nothing
but this
had you died then
and there
recrimination
on your lips
a raised digit
from the dead
it was my fault
not the pills or
the *****
not your taste
in pain
not your father
or mother
i was in error
not any
other
not even your
god forsaken
predictability
it was me
to the small hours
and on
number one
and why
when all
every other
was fine..
well i don´t know
but you do
there is something wrong
with you(me)
there is something
wrong
with me..
you..