Thursday, 10 February 2011

Dust

Α poem based on a zombie's dream




















Dust, dust all around us
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 nature's parasites
no better than ticks or louses

That’s what keeps us moving
yet we cannot be alive again
this is our eternal torment
until all animals are gone
and we start eating each other


























© Feb 2011 , N. D. Sk
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