I am your shambling one. I long to kiss
Your hair and what's beneath it. Day and night
I stumble after you. Must you resist?
It only makes it harder. Let's not fight.

Don't run away. Just trust me. You will find
My heart is golden, and my skin is green,
And I have weighty matters on my mind:
Grey matter. The delicious stuff of dreams

Is poetry. The sufferings of Job
Cannot compare. My darling, hear my plea:
I long to lick your tangy frontal lobes.
Medulla oblongata, tea and thee!

Put down the shotgun. Let me ease your pains.
You must believe I love you for your brains.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets, zombies