Dead Man Walking

Above ground, the devil walks in among us, in clothing draped as a man.

The absolute hell is not one we have to fear; the actual hell is the one we have lived.

What do you do when you see for the first time the light that you thought was dead.

The light of those who walked before you. In the shadows so dim that when you come along, it blinds those who think they walk in the light.

The ego of man will never fade until death.

Until then, he will walk with us, as one of us.

The zombies, the vacant, those who refuse to see. Is he me, or maybe I am he, the dead walking with the living?

How will I know until the light in my eye begins to fade?

The beating of a heart, the blood that burns. The flowers that sit on top of my gave that you have walked on.

Is it marked? Have you seen it? Is it true that you will scream when a man walks on your grave? Are we already dead?

Do we know the simulation of life but have you been alive? Have you seen it?

Have you rode the horse into the wind, feeling freedom within your grasp. Then your horse stops, and all turns black.

Where are you now? Have you seen it? Those walking among us are already dead.