Every pair of lines in this poem pairs a verb with an object, and almost every object is pointless or empty: you stab a corpse, bury a zombie, hate ghosts. These are fights against things that are already dead or never really alive, so the effort goes nowhere. The title, with its tough-guy movie farewell, adds a bitter joke, as if the speaker is waving off a version of themselves.
The speaker seems to be describing a person stuck in a numb, self-destructive loop. They sleep through the day, lash out at others, fight "yourself," and keep replaying regrets while pushing tomorrow out of mind. Using "you" for the self-battle suggests the speaker may be talking to themselves, or to someone they know well. The final pair, "Mindless, / Behaviour," names the problem outright.
The mood is bleak, tired and a little desperate. The short lines and commas that break each phrase feel like heavy, repeated steps, with no way out.