MockingBird

Somewhere in the shadows
something prowls...
secreting a subtle aroma.
an unfamiliar stench,
slightly suggestive of decay

what is this blight which spreads amongst us?

this reaping of souls, leaving bodies in tact?

and now a war wages
an army of undead soldiers
proceed to the front line.
meeting a dwindling convoy of mortal warriors
who still fight for their lives.



Dim streetlights magnify the pallor of death.
blood soaked bodies adorn the land

then they arise, these same humans. ..
yet not human at all.

One by one are killed, but not quite so…
a holocaust of transformation--
all my once loved ones
are now flesh eating beings.

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dawn peeks through the poisoned clouds,
and they flock to darkness
leaving me untouched
and alone

singing to myself an insufferable silence
which mimics itself repeatedly,
for the sake of some sort of sanity.
but what are senses worth when all is dead and gone?


my zombie brothers and sisters
hide somewhere in the daylight.
How I wish they would come
erase my soul  as theirs'

I long for a fiery inferno
amongst the biblical damned
my rightful damnation

but instead I suffer alone and afraid
eternal silence,lest my own song
whose echo I often mistake for a sullen
angel, some living thing at least...
only to hear it fade into the black hole of infinity.