So dark the intent of man,
I stare at a vaccant wall
it makes me understand this.
it causes me to stir,
to squirm under the threat of it.
who knew that something so bland could be so foreboding
smear it with red and see the walls for what they are.
constructs of blood and misery.
every place we step we are walking over bodies.
living in someone else's history.
death everywhere.
the dark con of man is that we are all doomed.
death is inevitable and yet we fight it...
accept the fate and live for the time we live...
walking over corpses and living among them.
the walking dead.

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