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

Farmer Tom,* fell on times hard,
Needing to feed the animals because
Scrawny
Emaciated
Anorexic
Animals wouldn't get much.
So on the black market, cheap feed
"Not For Human Consumption"
That was good enough
For farmer Tom.
He thought he would try it on the
Chickens first,
"Buck, Buck, Buck"
Scratching of fifty little feet,
Breakfast,
Lunch,
Dinner
They looked as before
"Plucky little egg laying machines"
Still hungry
Wait till morning my feathered friends.
Night set upon the surroundings
Farmer Tom
Woke,
Startled,
Confused
What the?? Slippers, dressing gown,
Shotgun loaded,
"Tip toe, tip toe tip toe"
"Bang"
"Mary mother of joseph"
"That dam dog and his toys"
"Ok safety on"
The yard was silent, except for
a noise faint but heard
"Buck, buck Aahhhhh"
Farmer tom curious of this noise
Listening with ears Focused
Came to a sight of horror
Chickens pecking
The eyes out of blue bell
Mooooooooooo,
Then cluck
Mooooooooooooooo,
Then cluck, Aahhhhhhhh,
Then misfortune,
"SNAP, CRUNCH"
As 42 feet turned,
Eyes red as crimson
Feathers matted, and that smell
Decaying cow as bell got up
"Moooooooooooo, Aahhhhhhhh, cluck,"
"Father Jims tunic"
As Bell swayed towards *farmer tom,
Little feet carried in the hole in bells gut,
"MOooooooooo"
"Cluck"
Mooooooooooo
"Cluck"
Fa­rmer Tom ran for his dear life,
Past the chicken coop
Where blood soaked remains
Of those unlucky chickens, parts rancid
As the head of a chicken looks up as I run past,
Doors locked, windows too,
What the hell is that noise??
As a rancid chicken comes though the dogs door
"Kentucky this mother cluck, cluck err"  
The last thing it did before I sent it too hell
Laid an egg,  green and sour,
"What the hell was in that feed"
Out the back he ran, bag in hand
Zombie
Meat
Danger
Incineration is required,
"Zombie meat?? what the blue blazes"
As he runs to the house
Whoosh, above his head
As the house once home, erupts a fiery death ,
Tom see's Bell surrounded
By gents in suits
Moooo, Aahhhh, Cluck,
"Excuse me sirs"
"What the frigging heck is going on"
They fry bell on the spot, Mmm burger
"Snap out of it man"
As the chickens peck upon a suit
As he screams fallen to the ground
Pecked to death, but death just woke up.
Tom runs in slippers as they set upon the pecked man
"Tom keeps on running"
"Tom  keeps on jogging"
"Tom keeps thinking I'm too old for this"
He hides in the old barn five miles away
Waits there for days too scared to come out
Then on the fifth day he treads carefully not to be seen
He sees a house, see's a coop and chickens
Cluck,
Cluck,
Mooooooo
All around is heard, as he runs a round
Bell is that you, you got more spots
"Interesting"
The house as it was beter some how.
Too this day Farmer Tom tells tales,
To those who listen,
"The Night of the dead Cow and The Zombie Chickens"
And how the government blew his house up
And then built him a better one, hell I wouldn't moan now.