In the depraved hotel Colorado I sit on the bed and listen to my friends make love in the other rooms. I am not left out, I masturbated into the toilet this morning.
They say where are you going, out to for a smoke. They follow me.
They walk the streets of the living in my pursuit, they inquire: what am I? I run.
I run through the gates to the world of the dead. My friends standing at the gate in the world of the living, badger me why.
The melting faces of the walking dead. The essence of the place something like that painting called Scream.
I give my cigarette to a dead salesman. He takes a drag and gives it back to me. His slimy dead essence on the butt of my cigarette. I place it in my mouth. I ask him if he is a nightmare. No nightmare. No nightmare? No, no nightmare here. The ground beneath my feet began to open up.