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..