Down the road, the creatures travel,
dragging feet kicking gravel,
moaning in a sugar high,
glucose headed toward the sky,
creators nerves, come unraveled.

Rattling bones,
like ringing phones,
as I am pursued at a run,
Shot, unaffected by my gun.

The bullets seemed to pass on through,
no flesh is there to reduce to stew,
no heart or lungs to destroy,
So I run from skeleton boy.

Homicidal thoughts,
to go with the knife you bought,
Put both back in the box,
or I am calling the cops.

Fear consumes my nightly dreams,
it comes in sweaty streams,
as the creatures roam behind,
the conscious thoughts of my mind.