A zombie camouflaged

How does one become undead? *** I dreamt of the morgue, but not as a place. It was a notebook, where my longings were destined to stay. The pages were gray, deprived of joy. The more words I wrote, the more lifeless this boy. Writing as a coping mechanism, turned into a gun. Shooting at the sky for answers, lost count of all the moons. A world upside down, where’s damage control? airless space, colorless soul. Nobody suspects, a zombie camouflaged. Mimicking the living, a walking mirage. *** Copyright © Denny K. Schuldt 2026