The Zombie
[poetry]
The zombie wakes
Begrudgingly leaving its bed
Bindings falling away
Dirt seeping from his eyes
As he recaptures the art
Of setting one bony foot after the other
Stumbling past the doorway with a groan
Down into the catacombs
Where lies his Treasure
The Elixir in the Holy Grail
His bare minimum consciousness
Delivers him to unto the sealed shelf
And he rips open the jail of his Ambrosia
A juxtaposition against the tenderness
With which he cradles the Vessel of Life
And brings it to his lustful lips
That craving
And finally I awaken
To that first drop of vanilla Colombian cold brew on my tongue
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