The horrors

she is the new thing

shes a special girl you know, the kind i´d hope to see, hanging on a wall watching me cross the street. i wonder how long it will be before i´m sick of her, and i no longer care where she goes or has been, because shes the new thing.
it started so slight then i flared into life, attention again onto another new thing once she had me on my knees, enamoured with disease. Now she fails to impress. a different sickness.
A different kind of sickness, lacking any interest. and i sunk in apathy, totally absorbed in me. sitting vacant on my own, My senses lying prone. she was the new thing. Feel my stomach sink and i curse my slow limbs. Starting at her, alterior girl,
i cast myself into whatever she brings....another new. With sickness, it ends how it begins: first mine then hers, and then the cycle blurs as my actions reoccur through no fault of my
own, through no fault of my own.