Those walking wounded
hobble zombiefied by all
kinds of cross-infections
collected through union –
from bites & scrapes [via
other tainted bodies] – a
kindness offered by Billy
Liar’s imaginary splatter
of his MG-42 to put them
out of [shuffled] misery?
I hear more tall tales as I
rebound between places
for coffee [or ales] – men
mainly screwing it all up
in living dead marriages –
& wives also into upsets –
dating site visitors – both
seek better flesh to graze
upon & sate ageing egos
& fill their near-to-deaths
before nothing is left – by
vows wedlocks fall apart