Living Dead

Living Dead
by
Thomas Lee Peterson


He reaches for the liquor,
as if reaching out for something
to hold on to.

After pouring a glass,
he holds the bottle close to him
as though it were a lover.
It is better than a lover,
it's feelings can't be hurt.
It doesn't judge or criticize,
and always gives him exactly what he needs,
a temporary fix.

It makes him forget his problems, for a while.
It gives him the strength and courage
he needs to go on living. It is his god.

His mind is shattered, his soul bleeds,
his heart breaks, and though he feels he can't,
this precious elixir helps him carry on.

He doesn't believe in happily ever after any more.
Not knowing what the future holds
and with this sharp clear liquid
is all that keeps him alive.

Were it not for the things he would miss,
he wouldn't have survived this long.
If he were dead tomorrow it wouldn't matter,
for he longs for death's sweet embrace.

While even he is not aware of it,
he is already dead,
he stopped living long ago.
He turned his back on life
when life turned it's back on him.

He's just a walking corpse now;
just another member of the living dead.