The bottoms of my feet are so dirty
I crouch on my floor with my legs
to my chest and heave a long breath
I want to fall back forever like those
fever dreams you have where you
fall and fall and fall and fall and
this house reverse insulates like
my body and my brain
I killed all of the spiders in every
corner of this room and then threw
them in the trashcan
I slowly remind him and myself
that these aren't people
they are zombies and everyone of
them is wearing a sign around it's
decaying neck that say why
everything is so fucking complicated
one pump and I unload into my father's face
a collection of buckshot I've been saving
pump again to allow another shell into the
chamber and shooting Graham isn't so fucking bad
because these aren't people
they are zombies
they are zombies