Bad Poetry (Thursday)

Today's theme is....Parenthetical Remarks!

In Which Our Hero (the Heretofore Unmentioned Ellery) is Faced with His Future As A Zombie

by The Unknowable Magician (Schuyler)

The undead face me
and confront me
and stand in front and back of me
There must be something particularly
tasty about my marrow
I don't know
why else these things would surround me

Come sweet death and let me ride
your fiery chariot through
the legions of grave-escaping fiends
that trail me and track me so
mercilessly
Let me grab your sweet embrace
and disappear without trace
from in front of their eyes
or what were eyes in a past life
a life which none remember
but all fear
Let me bask in your doomed descent
and find my solace in your sacred attempt
to free me from a future too
horrifying for words (but let me try)

BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAAAAAAAAAAAINS!

Nothing else
no words no thoughts no hopes
cross my mind
just your mind
is on my mind
and in my mouth and down my gullet
if you cannot escape from it (me)
Never satisfied
Never satiated
My bills are never ratified
expect to be excoriated

BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAAAAAAAAAAAINS!

I will walk
endlessly across the earth
like a banshee, screaming
but as a zombie
Searching always for another prey
I pray that I will die
But God does not answer the prayers of the undead
He'll throw our skeleton bones away,
and leave us all to rot on fiery graves
If only we would die that is.

BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAAAAAAAAAAAINS!

Arms! I don't need you.
Feet! I don't need you.
Head! I don't know if I don't need you.
You cannot kill the undead
Or perhaps you can
I hope to God, the Devil or Bob
that you can
Release me, Bob
from this
Do not let me get you
or you'll become like me too
Do you have a shotgun
that might work
Or at least a can of gas
and a lighter
or a pitchfork
Anything, Bob
that can free me from this outcast state
that I beweep so much.

Oh God (or Bob)
Just kill me now
Again.

There are no Un-un-dead.