It’s the midnight of the zombies
when the parties always start
where these muted monster sheeple
turn their stumbling into art.
They go rambling though the city
losing limbs while dripping brains.
They arrive on broken soles
and via bridges, tunnels, trains.
The zombies have nothing in mind
and destruction in their touches
but you have hope to make escape
unless you’re using crutches.
The nights can be mostly unfun
with undead antagonists
as their simpleminded march
will not be stopped by clever fists
so best to ride their rampage out
until the night is done
and wait for them to all go home
and then come out. You’ve won!
One could say a metaphor’s
been hidden in here by me.
Of course, I don’t know what
you’re talking about. I’m just a plain old zombie.