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


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