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THE END by Eileen Neary
March 22, 2010 Poetry Tags: poem
Broken urban desert, stale, parched
Dusted and frosted with collapsing automobiles
Skeletal juices crunch and ooze underfoot
All is dead
And as I stumble past a window I see my blackened eyes
Dry lips, death-blown hair, empty gaze
And with each step another ravaged wound
My heart begins to sputter
And when my left arm goes I don’t feel a thing
because the horde has swallowed me
New York City couldn’t save me
5 Comments (Leave a comment)
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Ooo! I’m not usually much of a fan of poetry, genre or not.
This one is pretty good, though. Leaves ya wondering:
Is the speaker a Zombie become just one of millions, or that last victim of the Horde?
Either way, it’s an eerie feeling at the end.
Comment by cdugger on March 22, 2010 @ 5:01 pm
Wow, that was awesome! Really vivid imagery.
Comment by Poops McGee on March 23, 2010 @ 9:16 pm
Poetry does not usaully do it for me but this captures the mood well. Thanks!
Comment by Mac on March 24, 2010 @ 10:01 am
Thanks guys!!
Comment by Eileen on July 20, 2010 @ 11:15 pm
I can really imagine this in my head if i close my eyes, this is extremely awesome and i really enjoyed it!
Comment by ChaosPeng on December 9, 2010 @ 8:22 am