A poem based on a zombie’s dream.

Dust, dust all around
our dead cells blanket everything
like a grey sheet on a corpse
we have long been dead
yet we are still moving
We are moving like puppets
handled by an unseen puppeteer
all life’s warmth has left us
our bodies are cold as ice
and our blood is like crude oil
Nature does not like us
we scrounge her resources
devouring the blood of animals
since no human is left alive
we are her parasites,
no better than ticks or louses
That’s what keeps us moving
yet we cannot be alive again
this is our eternal torment
till all animals are gone
and start eating each other
© 2011 Nikolaos D. Skordilis – All rights reserved

source : Grace Weston
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