Talking sleep
Memories I wish to keep
Time knows the tears I weep
As I let my tea steep

Walking with head hung low
Eyes but a dim lit glow
Hidden heart, refuse to let it show
Ever afraid of letting go

Draperies sewn shut
Stolen into a hollow hut
**** the peacock that did strut
Replaced with what
But a weak mutt.

- Jay M
September 24th, 2020

Mister Maxwell reads the paper
Of the party that he pays for
And with subtle nods agrees
With each printed word he reads
He knows all the phrases to say
About the topics of the day
And he's politically engaged
(Marching in manifestations)
And appropriately enraged
(By violence and discrimination)
To be a hero of society:
A once-born self that's ceased to be,
A real symptom of democracy!
A truly enlightened zombie!

Rap at those enraptured under fears of the bacterial,
as children try discerning ethereal from material.

Drowning in the oceans of history, since repeating
these anachronisms trumpeted a fracture fed imperial.

Curse the brittle bones encroaching faster by the minute,
while the sinners broaching laughter couch a ghost within a cynic.

Living flesh against a ghost.
Spoken word against it's host
Who's the zombie here,
between a thread of hope and varicose?

Who's to know the line approached?

Serve the rabble in our throats?

Turn the table in our notes.

Learn the fables from the jokes.

a face of stone and bloodred eyes
he is not dumb, he is not wise
a vampire, dressed in black attire
ruler of the world, lobby boss, a rock

a fierce narcissist being hurt
even by your friendliest words
knife-like fingernails, teeth spiky
he slits you up, devours your heart

cannibal lecter style for real
he just does not know how to feel
psychopathic soul, a tall goon
ruling from a bone-made throne

you can not make a deal with him:
he's like a bank and always wins
your family is dead my friend
today is your turn: you will burn

barbeque-images, intestines
human-scented steak with bloodshakes
festival of gore, you creature
since you are the vampire's feature

humans come, humans go, you know?
a vampire does not bother
he will tear your body apart
to carve a poem into your flesh

I became a zombie,
A mindless being
Drifting through life aimlessly
wanting to change something
Not capable of doing anything
And ended up with no one by my side

There's dirt underneath me.
I walk around lost in my body.

A neon zombie.
Through the night.
Neon zombie through the night holding a magic light.
As a guide.

But Everything is aching.
Everything is falling.
And the neon zombie is crawling.
And when it can run, it runs off into space.
Lasers coming from its eyes in a daze.

Although it knows where it belongs and it's not in this body.
Dirt underneath a body.
All around here now and inside of me.
Help, I'm wandering in the space that's left for me not walking freely.

There's dirt underneath me.
I walk around lost in my body.

Still walk neon zombie.
You are never comfy.
With your neon face staring into space.
Before you enter.
Unexpected but always from the centre.

Can I still walk with you, or should I just wait?
So tired of being lost facing this closed gate. (it's closed)
Walking only kills the time and burns away the need and desire.
To not be on fire.

All the time killing time in a tunnel where all babies should die.
And I know why.
It's getting late and it's getting dark.
So sleep before the neon lights spark.

they said
”uhuhuh imma buy a big gun
bazooka 47
and imma **** of dem zombies
cause dey
surely *******”
and i can’t say nothing to them
cause
i don’t know that they’re not coming
the way things going

Midnight skies above
It's beautiful
It's wonderful
It lets me forget
About yesterdays struggles  

I forget about feeling numb
Forget about my soul being poisoned
Perhaps that isn't true
Perhaps my vision is blinded
By the light
The light those wicked
Or maybe both
I don't know

I wish I was out there in the stars
Exploring many different possibilities
But here I lay on Earth
Stuck with a bunch of zombies
Who never chased their dreams
Their mind brainwashed by screens
Spending all day on their i-phone
Until its too late
When their family gathers around, crying
Right next to their gravestone

Gone are all possibles
As well as dreams
Just like that.
How tragic.

Yeah, this poem is ironic coming from me
But it is what it is
And that's how it's gonna  be

From me to you, the one who sees
In the dark, In the light
And everywhere
In-between.

I cant sleep
no more
my brain is too

awake,
alert,
aware,

scared,
terrified

its
survival mode