By the Pale Moonlight

It is the light of the moon

that makes you so beautiful.

Poor Zombie.

Stetched to almost breaking,

only able to make sounds

through rough, sewn lips.

I compliment

to save his feelings.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know.

Blind Optimism

The ground trembled beneath our feet,

but you thought we were dancing.

Twirling and whirling,

hands reaching for something

that isn’t there,

you thought we were ecstatic,

but the wind you felt

you generated from

your bliss,

was a storm.

Untroubled by the darkness,

you commented upon the night,

though it was midday.

Stumbling, you thought

you were reaching for

new heights,

gleefully.

But you were troubled

by the dankness.

How it rose from underneath

the surface that is

my despair.

How you could not

explain that

one,

troubling reality.

That smell.

So you blamed me,

and though I tried to tell you,

you walked away.

Slow Poison

A wayward mind

crashed upon the shores of

realization,

dazed by the lies

that were sold as

“for your best interest,”

and, “you can trust us,”

and, “we are here to protect you.”

It is the worst

betrayal.

A path to isolation

and confusion.

Anger and deep

crags filled with

frozen despair.

The world is remade daily

like a cell that divides and

renews itself,

yet mutated by

the toxins

sold to us as love.

It is profitable,

after all.

They worship a god

dripping with

sweat made of gold,

his feet rancid with

the fetid souls of

the dead.

They were killed by

the greedy,

slaughtered in the human

corporate farm that

is our society.

He picks his teeth

with the bones of our

children,

already dead,

despite still walking.

It is a nightmare

we cannot wake up from.

Our bodies, our fate

invaded upon and decided

for us,

without our consent.

The story is familiar.

The question is,

what will you

do?