Dust
A post-apocalyptic poem based on a zombie’s dream
Dust.. dust.. is everywhere, all around us
our dead cells blanket everything
like a grey sheet left on a corpse
by now we have long been dead
yet, somehow, we are still able to move
We have been moving like puppets
via the strings of an unseen puppeteer
all life’s warmth and color have left us
our deformed bodies are hideous and cold as ice
and our blood looks like crude oil
Though nature spawned us it does not like us
we scrounge and deplete her resources after all
we devour the flesh and blood of animals
since there are no more humans left alive
if there were we would have smelled them
We are nature’s parasites, that is all we are
no more than leeches, ticks or dust mites
nature’s most pitiful unlife forms
we look worse than mangled clones of vampires
The flesh and blood we consume mobilize us
yet we can never be alive again
that is our ongoing but not eternal torment
it will end when all animals of…
