Zombie
She wasn't going to wear those old rags anymore, so ...
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Zombie
by Wolfgang Glinka
Waking up was always a shock.
Interrupting that other world.
Sometimes it really was: Where am I?
And, worst of all: Who am I?
That World held you in its arms,
Cuddling or smothering, it depended.
It was always there, complete in itself,
But incompatible with here.
Where am I? Where indeed.
Somewhere new, unforeseen.
Who am I? Oh now, you’re talking.
Someone else, awoken.
Before this, that.
Confusion playing normal,
A twisted logic, just for you,
A familiarity game, a hoax.
Then this, after that.
An improvement? Sure.
A shock? Well no.
This time, it feels like real.
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