I've got a cupboard with cans of food, filtered
water, and pictures of you and I'm not coming
out until this is all over
and I'm looking through the glass where the
light bends at the cracks and I'm screaming
at the top of my lungs pretending the echoes
belong to someone I usedto know
and we become silhouettes when our bodies
finally go
I wanted to walk though the empty streets
and feel something constant under my feet,
but all the news reports recommended that
I stay indoors
because the air outside will make our cells
divide at an alarming rate until our shells
simply cannot hold all our insides in, and
that's when we'll explode (and it won't be a
pretty sight)
and we'll become silhouettes when our bodies
finally go