Food

A poem about a zombie's main focus- Food

I had the food in my hands

Warm, delicious food

I blissfully chewed

My mouth full of blood and meat

 

As I chewed on the food

It was screaming and hitting me

That didn't bother me

I don't feel pain anymore

 

Somehow, I lost my food

It got away from me

Squeezed between some pipes

I can almost reach it, though

 

My cold, dead fingers brush against

Warm, living flesh

It excites me, but

The food recoils in horror

 

The food screams again

And moves further back

Out of my reach

I moan in frustration and hunger

 

The food smells so good

The metallic scent of blood

Fills my nostrils

MUST.  HAVE.  THIS.  FOOD!

 

I slam my shoulder against the pipes

Trying to squeeze further in

I reach and reach

But still can't get the food

 

I beat my body against the pipes

Again and again

Something tears, something crunches

But there is still no pain

 

I am just like a moth

Obsessed with a lightbulb

Battering itself to death

But I'm already dead

 

It seems like a long time

Since I've been trying to get the food

It stopped screaming and crying

But I'm not sure how long it's been

 

It's dark in this basement

Amid all the twisting pipes

I can't see the food very well

My eyes are filmed with decay

 

I moan and reach again

Then I see movement

The food reaches toward

My outstretched hand

 

Cold, dead fingers brush my own

The food isn't food anymore

It squeezes through the narrow space

and shuffles off with me

 

To search for more food...

Author's Note

Just an odd little zombie poem. I'm not sure if I like the title. Please give me your ideas for a better name.