top of page
Mircea Boboc

Zombie Apocalypse

All my friends are dead

in the zombie apocalypse.

Carefully I thread.

Blackness in the fingertips.


I am hungry. I lost pounds.

I’m the king of solitude.

Don’t you see that I am crowned

with the tears of servitude?


What if I just do you harm?

What a pity, what a dread!

When I sound the old alarm,

how can it revive the dead?


While I love you from afar

with my heart encapsulated

into a too-small a jar,

you want me, as well, sedated.


But I don’t march with the hordes,

So I’m giving up on you.

As I cut resisting cords,

there might be remaining glue.

Mircea Boboc © 2022

bottom of page