I am a zombie
the likes of which you have never met.
I do not seek flesh...nor brains nor blood
I breathe, I swallow the food that this world brings to me, the luxuries of its soil.
I have sung.... I have danced... I have felt
yet
I do not feel the air, it rests in my lungs like ash , I do not taste the food, it like all things have been grown in salted earth, I do not hit notes well enough to be considered beautiful, and my feet have grown clumsy with time
I wonder without purpose...
I feel no sensation. I see no sensation I hear no sensation ...
I am not a zombie of flesh but a zombie of life,
being driven to such a state of mind takes years of nurturing.
believe it not its hard to grow a child so fractured....a broken relationship a family split in two by alcohol and drugs alike , years of trauma and bullying its so hard.... its so hard to stand your ground...
its like school yard is a wind tunnel.. and im a a design concept...because every time i stumble and fall everyone takes their turn to laugh at my designer , and in his frenzied panic he strips far to much of me... parts of me they deemed useless.. useless! things no one else would notice i lost my taste stripped from the drugs that sour my soul
my feet replaced with stumps on which I can not dance because the one person I held close enough to my heart to dance with.. I pushed away with lust for regardless venture sometimes i see a broken bottle on the ground and...just...
but don't read my agony for an attempt at self justification for my state, my life is not their for your pity, no your reassurance I am self made man!, I carved the marble of my bones from the gravel of the man I used to be and i did it while everyone laughed...while they mocked..
I sat there with a chisel in my hand and thought
"if I was meant to be dead..if I was not meant to be here..I wouldn't be...car crash or fever or trauma or seizure i would be gone...and the moment I close my eyes i can rest...the moment I am no longer here I will have a bed where the pillows don't feel like rocks and my blankets are no longer made of thorns I am allowed to dream..."
everyone mocks the zombie...me..us..them...we..
im not alone..there's hundreds of us...thousands and I bet if I said the word we would rise up and walk the streets like mobs ... an army of tasteless chefs a platoon of crippled ballerinas
a support division of hideous make up artists.
I say this,not because its true..its not... the crippled dancers have merely forgotten how to stand the chefs have their seasonings wrong the make up artists are just using the wrong shade, I say it not because its true... but because that's what where taught is true
enough people saying the same thing has a way of jostling the wires around your mind, i know a girl that used to be a nuclear submarine...
she once needed two keys and a code word and a finger scanner to activate....now its just the blunt end of an old spoon and some jostling to get her heart started
you say something.and it doesn't matter if its not true, it will become truth. when it is repeated.
how bad did you think it was?
because it is so much worse
*L.G