July 28, 2008
through the heat i trudge.
look at me, i'm raining;
watering this dry, dry ground.
with every step my strength is taken
drawn into the dust
which flies away; free.
i cannot go on.
my pursuer never stops-
not to blink, or sleep, or breathe.
arms outstretched, he moans and moans,
not for my death,
but that i am still escaping,
still running.
i cannot go on.
i will be consumed,
pieces of myself taken from me,
pulled with dull teeth-
drawn into that simple mouth.
my skin tingles,
waiting.
i cannot go on.
better to be eaten.
better to be torn to pieces,
to gorge this monster,
slowing it down, then to arise-
the unforgiven, the damned,
walking that shuffle-step.
i cannot go on.
4 comments:
yeah, i wrote this a long time ago. but i re-read it recently, and, well, zombies still scare me.
now what would be nice was if at the end you used a clever philosophical twist to force your audience to realize that in many way all of society acts as zombies pursing the mavericks in a groaning, laborious attempt towards forced conformity.
as this was not forthcoming. i must comment that i was nonetheless unnerved and rather glad that my fears are different from yours. It took me a moment to remember the difference though as you did an effective job of making your fear my own.
I am just a raging jealousy,
that words come so easily to you.
I always have been
so thats how it ends ?
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