tonight i drove past your old place,
and in another dimension i saw myself park out the front.
i climbed the stairs on all fours, turned the fan on in your room,
i pressed my nose against your window,
watching bodies in the kitchen through the skylight.
i pressed the pads of my fingers against your forehead,
but your face melted underneath them
you're just not you, and every day that passes
you become less you, in these visions,
and i become less me, too
this ache is unstoppable.
it rears and strikes,
at the pub, at a show,
and i scream all the way home
i read this week that the cheapest meat you can get
is the heart of the pig, cow or sheep
oh god how i've spat on mine
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