A Dead Bulimic Walking

I was a good human but then I got bit

And now I’m a zombie, completely legit

Before I was dead I was way underweight

I always would vomit whatever I ate

But now I’m a zombie who’ll never be fat

Still watching my weight, I’m a stickler for that

I do avoid chubbies, they go to my hips

My weakness however, those soft tender lips

This disorder’s an issue whenever I sup

So even with “finger foods,” I will throw up

Although I’ll show mercy when some of them beg

It’s still gonna cost them an arm or a leg

I met a new neighbor who calls himself, “Dwight”

I’m having him over for “dinner” tonight

He asked about wine so I said, “Bring a red”

(A white is too sweet when you’re already dead)

I hid my appearance, I fooled him, no doubt

And after I’m finished I’ll vomit him out

I like Germans, Italians, Americans too

But those hot spicy Mexicans, boy do I spew

Whatever my neighbor was, he gave me gas

Although I’m a zombie I’m not without class

Tho my body’s evolving, my preference remains

His muscles were fine, but I still prefer brains