Poem-A-Day: Day 117

Zomboni

Dreams of violence
and humans dripping steel arrow arms,
walking strangely
as if they were looking over their shoulders
moving backwards,
staggering in some slow pacing orchestra
towards the notion
of some outlandish damaged majesty.

I see them walking
towards me slowly swaying back and forth,
not any way human,
but more mutants with cold bladed limbs
resolute to murder
me in some twisted warm-blooded fantasy,
smiling savage smiles,
and winking stitches deep into my soul.

Each mutant step rouses
the Earth to change its soiled stolid heart,
while each move is minor
compared to the faltering diffident strides
I take towards waking,
the danger presses like some strange disease
poised to kill
in the slowest sociopathic way possible.

However, it’s not that I don’t like it,
I follow the moments
as they creep towards me like bitter zombies
looking for release.