Young men are driven by desire Seeking not justice, but self- Fulfillment, and Satisfaction. In walks an exceptionally rich Young man, master of an estate He was delivered by-will, A mere twenty years of age, Dreams of money, and a girl. The lost woman of his dreams A zombie by any other name, Wanders into his land, slowly, and Appears before him outside his home. Silence corrodes the somber scene Minutes pass in the fog A soft mist envelops the ground. Lifeless stares from zombie and human A mixed emotional moment for one A late-night snack for another Man pleads with zombie for reconciliation, His heart torn and unsure; Zombie approaches slowly, Stepping on a wallet, a mirror. A breaking of glass startles the Native human, owner of the lot, He shoos the young flesh-eater As she tears his face off and Swallows his brains in a gulp In his final thoughts he’s satisfied, The house left to deteriorate alone. Zombie dream-girl discriminates not by Sex, orientation, economic distinction Everything’s equally tolerated and despised in zombie-mind, Money, war, materials Only the primal call of food, sustenance matters; We should all be zombies, Lifeless flesh-shells, lacking reason. If we aren’t already by the time I read this. … Brains.
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