The Undead (a poem)
creak, drag
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 loosely
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
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Now this is some poetry I can get into. LOL
Thanks Sherri! I appreciate the kind words! Is it Ok with you if I add your blogs to my Other Sites of Interest (for the soap making) and SherriBlossoms to my Other Writers section?