She's a special girl you know,nThe kind I'd hope to see,nHanging on a wall,nWatching me cross the street.nI wonder how long it will be before I'm sick of her,nAnd I no longer care where she goes or has been,nBecause she's the new thing.nnFeel my stomach sink.nWhatever she brings,nI cast myself in.nShe is the new thing.nnIt started so slight then I flared into life,nAttention again onto another new thing.nOnce she had me on my knees, enamoured with disease.nNow, she fails to impress.nA different sickness.nA different kind of sickness,nLacking any interest.nAnd I, sunk in apathy,nTotally absorbed in me.nSitting vacant on my own,nMy senses lying prone.nShe was the new thing.nnFeel my stomach sink and I curse my slow limbs.nStaring at her,nAlterior girl,nI cast myself into whatever she brings...Another new.nWith sickness,nIt ends how it begins:nnFirst mine then hers,nAnd then the cycle blurs as my actions reoccur through no fault of my own, through no fault of my own.