Brains

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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If I Could

No, there’s not a time machine waiting

At the other side absolving all regrets and secrets

The mysteries presented through your teenage years

Disappeared long ago when you grew up

No chance to move back.

No, there’s not a bright light shining

Behind the door with glimmering eyes and sanctuary

The charitable salvation dignified your mistakes

Sins faults features human and worth embracing

No sanctuary to cling to.

No, there’s not a long staircase towering

Above your head leading to distant dream lands

That sings ballads to the simple living folk

With eyes closed but open elsewhere

No dreamland to plead for.

No, there’s not a metropolis bustling

In the transcendental nature of humanity

Crashing and burning under greedy infrastructure

Built to reinforce the regrets you forgive in the bedroom

Nothing to exploit.

If I could I would step away.