zombies

Poetry by Linda M. Crate ‡ Art by Mallory Milke

all these people laughing

obnoxiously

using profanity as an adjective

makes my ears wince,

and i just want to cut out their tongues

of all their jokes so the punchline

is never birthed;

seems like intelligence may be the next

beast to become extinct,

and i’m not willing to allow that to happen

so burn the stupid in the salt of their

own jokes

so they can no longer insult us in their oceans

of ignorance—

i sit in the trees

as they cut out paper moons,

holding hands

insisting they’ve had some great epiphany

when i’ve learned that same lesson

years ago;

i go unnoticed in my tree

because they are all on the edge of sleep

insist on staying up so they can be obedient little

glaze eyed zombies incapable of thinking

for themselves

simply repeating ideas that aren’t their own

that they can’t even comprehend

for if they did

they would sew their lips shut

forever.

 

spider bite

always

trying to force me from

the comfort of

my lair,

i don’t know why it came as

a surprise

when you were bitten;

i am like a recluse spider

leave me alone,

and i won’t hurt you

force me into the open i will

strike;

i will come out when i want to

not a moment before

so stop trying to

force my

hand—

look at your arms

see the bite

marks upon your flesh

you better get to

the hospital

if you want those arms to do anything

but wither and die away

i am poisonous when i am provoked,

and i am done playing your

games

realize i am a wild animal

i will never be caged by your desires or your

hopes

you were only ever a gilded cage;

i’ve broken the lock

my freedom means more to me

than you.

 

rage of spades

i’m not perfect,

but neither are you

sitting there in your house

of hypocrisy

insisting you are nothing but

a saint

when we both know that you

are a knave;

i want to shake down your little

house of cards

prove to everyone that you

aren’t the ace—

nor are you the king you think you are

just the knave of hearts

tearing love

apart,

but i am the queen of spades

come here a little closer

i’ll break

your heart on the spokes of love

like you broke mine

on lust;

you want to know what it’s like to be

a bleeding heart,

i’ll make sure yours never stops

bleeding.

 

gone

i once carried your bones

they were too heavy

so i dropped

them in the river,

and did not hesitate when they were

washed away;

i may have smiled

because there’s something liberating

about being freed of a gilded

cage—

i am done compromising myself

so that you can be happy

done pretending to care about the wry

coversations you give me more

dead than the flowers in the garden of

our once friendship,

and you insist that you are my blessing

when you’ve only been a

curse;

leave me alone

just leave me be because there’s nothing

i have to say to you

better pick up your bones before the

grave robbers get them and sell them to the highest

bidder and you have to be some

devil’s puppet—

i am done protecting someone

who cannot even show me one ounce of respect

always invading my personal space and

boundaries,

and i fare thee well

i am done and i am over it and i just don’t

care anymore:

i cared too much, you cared too little

took me for granted so now i’m

gone.

See more Art from Mallory Milke at www.Mayhemhere.etsy.com