Talking to myself is less lonely
or more, I suppose than silence
is a choking void, speaking like a robot
valium addict method acting a dopefeind
in a drama, directed by Arinofsky
on a sadness bender, under a shade
with sunglasses on, it’s from a Friedkin
script about the dead rising slowly
at first, and they’re weak so barely
any escape, and their disease is a curse
not contagious, so there will be no more
dead, the movie is ten minutes long.