Bumps jiggle the bubbles,
Bubbles of life sprawling and looking,
Bubbles seeking others with fullness,
Bubbles knowing all is well.
Dark gray metal plates bring zombies,
Zombies crawling and polluting,
Zombies ripping the heart through fabric,
Zombies blanketing purpose with nothingness.
Others build my house.
But I search for you.
Others are steady and right.
But I search for you.
My bubbles will never come back.
They will never grace me again.
The zombies will kill me.
I will never know if you
Would have killed me.
stillfugue 
#1 by dan on January 2, 2011 - 8:26 am
Sometimes it’s hard to discern between bubbles and zombies. When the head is confused, the heart still knows.
#2 by Carl on January 2, 2011 - 8:44 am
Yes, you are right, Dan. The heart knows and the gut knows, I would guess, if we listen to those…