zombie..

"..and lo the beast looked upon the face of beauty, and beauty scathed his hand..and from that day forward he was as one dead.."

i am the damned,
i am the dead,
i am the agony inside the dying head..
this is injustice,
woe unto thee,
i pray this punishment will have mercy on me..
save me from this disease.. ennie..<3
~
i should be damned,
for this i dread,
because like the beast we are as one dead..
but descend unto us,
both halves of me,
begetting our ending and setting our cold heart free..
please save me from this ending.. jammie..<3

..dead men tell no tales.. but look at me, i'm freaking singing. singing along with a ringing in my ears the same as the beat to which falls all tears..

i was tired of being in a whole mess of fading life, devoid of light, so hear my plight. i stand now to fight that what has plagued me, so save me and raise me from a daisy covered field, because any place without you is deathly..

my tombstone should read, "here lies a stupid man.." because only stupid men lie, and by the by as i've died so too have my old habits rotting inside, turns out they don't die so hard after all. and by the way, i've come back to stay and say all that what should have been said like, "sorry i missed our day, i was dead.." but i rise up from the ground sound and safe now because around me i see only deadbeats, most with two feet still but not a will nor a leg to stand on.. you're my legs.

months ago, when the year was cold, as we know before i died, i lived a lie, so i buried a promise that someday, in some weird way i'd feel alive again, and only again to gain a knowing from the pain, and to go showing again what i became from that growing promise grain, and it's a shame.. that it took me so many months to realize that these veins ran dry in vain, and i died for no reason. it's really silly, for here i am rising from a grave that was hollowed for me in order to save me from myself. i've been stuck in a hallowed hole, for the sake of divinity, with me for what seems like an eternity.. and that's a long time all by me onesie.. so at last i decided to be free.. one hand through i raise myself up and with two hands i get my head unstuck and now i see that next to me are the lilies you've been sending me for months.. you didn't know i'd be back so everyday you came back and sat next to me to keep me company. and to who's surprise would your cries harmonize with my sighs and give rise to my beat. it's no shocker that remorse would, of course, inevitably raise me from the locker and empower me to live and be once more.

getting up is the hardest part though.. breaking the bond of which i've grown so fond was almost beyond whatever unearthly endeavour i was clever as spit to come up with. you see i was so accustomed to just laying, and staying in one spot for so long, and it was comfy; quiet and stuffy, but still quite comfy. but as i thought about my resolve, i found myself coming to betray it as i emaciated, thinking i may see a bit brighter of a day if i escaped this place, and so i did. and now, i take my first breath in too many months..

i breathe -and i breathe deep- the cool night air and i can't help but to think that a sense of macabre is there and it seeps, as i breathe deep, that this macabre i'm feeling is the odd sense of living filled with graveyard till inside me and a need to scoff those lying aloft in their dirt so soft until i cough because this breath is kind of hard.. my cough is brazen and up comes shriveled lungs like raisins, dried and tethered together by wilted bronchi. i pop them back inside me and they go inside scuffing me but coincide and i bluffly rise with a dead front side and literally half a mind to stride again straight and true.. straight to you.. but i can't do that for i am dead.. zombies don't walk through crowded streets

picking up your lilies that smell like you, they smell of hell too, but only because i haven't washed my dead hands yet.. since they're covered in spiders' traps i'll do just that. i'll wash my hands of this place.. oh but if only if only, if only i could erase away the dead faces and complacent smiles; smiles that wasted away from faded faces over the years and became jeered with sorrow waiting for their tomorrow that never dawned. and beyond hell you were my tomorrow, and like the moon i rise when the day ends for my own ends to amend that what i've done.. like the dusk and dawn i'm just a spawn of something betwixt not quite there and almost.. more alive than some, but still deader than most.. the light of the moon grants me glances of a chance to make it up, but it shows me for what i really am.. an abomination walking through a quite nation.. the tombstones here border a personification and have an eerie sense of persuasion just for the occasion that one such as me should be free from this macabre. but this second life is of love, i've been born again of adoration as love's enation, contingent to hearts half started in buried chests and the treasures of lovers' passed.. but the moonlight is too quite a sight behind the thicke shrouds of clouds, glowing proudly to welcome me back to this life, and i just wave a broken hand happily and shoot a senile smile while i stride with my own pious pride; things don't come back.. and i'm living proof to the contrary of that. against long odds i came back.. slightly wary with an internal sack of maggots and baby butterflies i'm back.. with nicks and knacks in my face from this place and eternal cracks on my back from a lack of a precipitate.. but worse than these are the cracks within me through which i bleed dust puffs from a heart that's rusted up.. but i should suck it up because i'm back, right.. *sigh* now that i think of it i was quite fit being lower than shit in a pit with broken hips underneath wreaths of reaping daisies.. at least then i was useful. but now look at me, and what i've become; walking undone with rotted teeth sheathed in decayed enamel that taint words otherwise sweet.. a contradiction to which the conviction of death wasn't consistent; now i'm on a mission of forlorn descent to achieve divine consent to remain prevalent; because i'm too persistent to stay slayed, and for your sake this breath i do take to have and to hold, but why else would i be so bold to raise my cold face and tell tales dead men shouldn't have told in the first place.. it doesn't seem that just you would be enough for me to do that..

you see, all are for the main frame of things, but i guess i wanted to change things; rearrange the schemes in my dead head but it seems i'm just as the rest of them.. and this shitty self-pity comes with an aridity drying out my already dying skin, dehumidifying what's within and evaporating all but sin and again i come to face humbly the boundary of my entity.. why was i revived after i'd died to come and live undone among a bright moon unsetting too soon, and a haze of daisies. lamenting this, i keep breathing wisps because all that comes out of me is dust. and around me are the pushed up daisies made healthy by us, and the scene is just the prettiest thing, it would take my breath away if i had it in the first place; these flowers sing happily because we feed them rottedly under the ground and the sound they make is so beautiful.. a slight ringing is all one would hear just standing here but in the decrepit ear there is such a luster here listening to the sound all around from every wreath as they reap the life from those who give it willingly; they sing nattily while they glean life-blood and it seems egregious that they'd tease us without rue; living from us, once living too.

and i come back to you, and your lilies, to which the daisies lack credulity and can't be compared.. even though my senses fail and have faded i still feel cold, and i can still smell you on these lilies.. the lilies allow me to partially keep what i've come back to seek, oh but to see how shrilly the smell forceably retreats inside my nosey.. i should just take it off; this meek dried up creek cannot keep trying to run, dry and empty, and this is killing me, hehe, so i'd rather put my nose in my pocket than have the scent and lock it in my olfactory socket.. but with the scent stuck in my head running its course, it rocks it back and forth, and back with a lovely attack on the back of my fractured head.. and it spins as i begin to breathe again and i wish it could all end again, because living like i am, for a second time, isn't fine if i can't find myself next to you.. what the fuck am i supposed to do with another life if i can't make it better than the first one, there's no point in a fate undone if it's only won me something even worse than the hearse. being stuck in this horrid place with my morbid face is too much to bare. i'm so bored of this fate, i want to live and take place amongst you in the fresher air, because here it smells like dead-daisies.. i thought i didn't care for living anymore, because what's done is done for us; we lay peacefully, soundly, and eternally asleep, serenity, may death keep for us all, except for me being undead and all; living a reality in which death is merely a dream withal.

while i was lying in my hole i was lying to myself saying that i wouldn't miss it. that this is the best path for both of us to have that what we should've had. life for you, and for me whatever is on the other end of the life curve that i deserve. but i had the nerve to reverse the chorus and of course sit up again even though it was ended. to try again to be once more what i was before, but the score was settled, and i can't beat it when it's that high. when my number was up i was counted out and mounted about a stone not with but a few words. personal sentiments to my laments because i went too far and my heart has the scar to prove it. i always had a gut feeling that i'd be reeling into this arsenic hole, i was burning myself alive every time i sighed about how things were, when i should have enjoyed them while they lasted. now every reminder of you it seems is nothing but a rueful piece disrupting an otherwise eternal sleep.. now instead of sleeping i'm stuck dry-weeping as dust comes seeping from under my eyes, and i want to cry but my tear ducts were shut up around the sixth month. i want to find a way to cope with having no hope but it's difficult to know that there is none when every time there was always at least one; one chance, one time, one way you would find a way to say that it was okay, and that i was forgiven.. but given my current living i'm sitting here wishing that i didn't go away in the first place.. and i don't know why i am being like this.. it hurts to wish that this could be undone like me because for me i had too many chances. too many days have passed away like we have, decrepit and time-worn, that i spent unhappy for no reason and now in the coldest of life's seasons there's a self treason against me, i'm hating me. i'm hating all the wasting away that i was doing even before i was dead, something going on in my head that told me to be ready to see the cold end but i never wanted to let go of something so golden. i am an idiot, a now dead idiot.. and i suck..

sucking pavement i'm stuck paying life rent in this god forsaken rend in life's bend hoping that the pain will end but it won't. against my usual wont i try to cry but my leathery eyes have been dry ever since sometime in July, and it's easier to be angry. not just angry with you, but angry with me too because there were a lot of things i needed to do but never did and i hid away that what should've been yours way back in the day, in last year's october.. in this blue october a homecoming would've been something but nothing would have compared to the air around you there on that night.. but two outta three ain't bad, and i relish the time and two we had, but i'm still mad that i let go of life so easily. sure i came back, but as a worm snack and there's a crack in my empty hourglass. i'm constantly losing time that isn't even there anymore.. and it sucks.

with the moon half ominous and half illustrious by my dead side i slip a smile contrived by twisted muscles.

it's been over a month now and i still can't let go of what i used to know, i don't know what's wrong with me. it's funny because i believed that these lilies meant something, but nothing can compare to the despair i've been feeling ever since i began this existence.. i can understand why you haven't come back in so long.. constantly waiting for something that was taking too long. even though my eyes are fogged i can see clearly why you wouldn't pick me.. i wouldn't pick me.

i've heard the moon, and to me it told, "oh deadened kin, my sorrow for you runs deep and true within my porcelain skin.. and i lament you, deplorable you, my morbid, zombie friend." and since then, my deadened, sinned skin is no warmer,and in the corner of my chest my breath still feels cold blowing past an appropriate mold within the folds of hanging flesh; my heart feels torn and time-worn, a frozen testament to times old.. because my time has too long been too old, and my lovely opportunity passed gracefully, unlike me.. oh, despicable me.