Zombie

Tell me,

         why does this mirror look like an effigy?

Those are the eyes of a zombie, they’re not mine. 

No, no, mine shine, don’t they?

“Who’s the symbol 

                 and who's the human?”

I ask questions to the wind

     hoping someone will answer them,

but there’s no one here, 

           just an effigy trapped in a mirror.

  I walk through a neighborhood 

where the trees are listening,

   so I speak to them, 

telling stories about becoming a zombie 

“dead thoughts dig graves inside of me,” I say

I stare into a screen and blink

trying my best not to think

while my soul bleeds out of me 

numb, like a zombie should be

unable to take any accountability 

I fade

this guilt is crushing

but the trees

they see

a death for new seeds

they believe in change

I bite through my lip, anxious

memories haunting

regrets stiffen my body

unable to sing, I grunt

my brain is rot

as high as can be

I pretend to be a happy zombie

whatever lies I need to tell to live with me 

The effigy

reaches out and grabs me 

he’s ugly and smells like a potato 

Frankenstein 

my creation

with no hesitation 

he slaps the shit out of me 

“the trees deserve a better story,” 

he says while shaking some sense into me

I suppose they do.