crick, drag
The left foot sliding across the ground
Broken at an odd angle
The joints, dry as a bone, cricking and creaking
Pale flesh hangs loose
Arms at the side
Limp like noodles
A glint in the eye
The lust for blood
The lust for brains
The lust for anything living
He was James
Gas Station Attendant
Now he is one with death
I love this one Ben! Gets me in the zone to write some more!
that is truly COOL! i like that alot!!! encore!
Thanks guys....this is actually part of a series of poems called my Zombedy! It's one that is near and dear to my heart but I'm not sure where to post the whole series!
great beat to this. Nice one. You should get it published.
deboree
Thanks Deboree! I appreciate the kind words! One day I hope to publish all 16 together for the story~
I have no doubt in my twisted little mind that you will do just that Ben. Keep up the great work!!!
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