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All The Dead Are Here - Pete Bevan's zombie tales collection

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WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

June 13, 2012  Poetry   

Your mockery knows no end, so again I lash out sending your hollow skull crashing across the confines of my prison.

No, No, respect the dead, the deceased. It’s not my mere skeleton companion that imprisons me here, no it’s the demons at my doorstep.

In an undemanding motion, I reinstate my bleached attendant’s countenance; he once again dons the grin, so joyous to be whole.

Madness drives me, solitude places a crown of torture upon a heavy brow, and there the ivory imbecile heckles once again— once again the hoary globe is sailing.

The ones, those that move, that feed, I hear them through my palace, my prison; they long for the burden of flesh I posses.

For weeks I have dwelled in these murky bowels, only my fellow Boneman to keep my sanity intact.

But alas, as life ebbs away, my force fails, my light grows dim;

I can only hope an afterlife of unrelenting happiness like that one granted to my boney acquaintance.

1 Comment

  1. Another good one!

    Comment by bshumakr on June 13, 2012 @ 11:46 am

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