A place about everything and nothing

An Ode to the Living Dead


The cold air blew through my open window while the pale specular reflection of the moon shimmered.

I awoke with a start, sweating. My shirt was soaked while perspiration trickle down my face.

“…were found Dead”

I was bathed in cold shifting light as the tele near my bed flickered with static .

“Suicide rates have continued to increase despite efforts….”

Shifting images of people shuffling to work tore through my retinas and into my brain.

“Get off the road you damn Nutter!” A baleful horn and an angry fist.

Dead….

I lifted my leaden feet and lurched towards the station. Everyone goes to the station sometimes… Everyone….

Alive….

Pain wrecked my body as the world rolled over me.

Falling…

Smashed against the bottom of the steps I picked myself up and nursed my injured arm.

“Watch it asshole! You are in the way!”

Nobody cares. The world cares not for those it leaves behind.

For the world turns with every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every year.

It turns away, never to look back.

Shuffling forms filled the train. Body heaped upon bodies.

The smell of decay flows down from the top and into the station.

Dead…?

I stand amidst the bodies innumerable. Vacant seats and vacant minds.

I walk…

Rundown and barely serviced. My apartment, my home.

My tomb…?

“…there has been a drastic rise in the number of people claiming that ‘the end is nigh’. Authorities are clamping down… “

I look at the mirror but a stranger looks back.

There is sadness in your eyes I told the stranger

My vision blurred and it was moist

Dead… but still alive…

Out the window they were walking

Always walking, walking, walking

I lived…

I live…

I die…

The wind blowing through my hair as I run laughing through the streets.

People stop and stare and I laugh at their bewildered gaze

Let them trudge on in the thick mud of drudgery

Let them walk the path they walk forevermore

I dance with the walking dead as they shuffle through their life

In my breast beats a cold furnace and I’m more alive than ever

But I am dead inside… My heart a frozen mass…

I am the living and the dead… for I am an ode to the living dead.

Work by Petros Ghebrehiwot

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