Cocktails

For the briefest of moments I caught a glimpse of normal life.
I sit with a beer and light up a smoke.
They are all dead, so there isn't much left to do.
For now.
My relaxation is interrupted by the thought that my glorious cigarette would draw them in.
I'm too tired today to deal with more of those lumbering cadavers.
The beer is still mildly cool, having sat in a thawing freezer for days.
It tastes so good.
It numbs me to the fact that this is really happening.
That everything I lived for was gone.
That I was alone.
Utterly alone.
It's temporarily dulling my sense of panic.
The blood stained grass soaks through my pants.
I would love a shower, but I'm worried about the sound.
They seem to be hyper acute to sound.
God knows how many are already coming this way because of the flick of the lighter.
This is a very precious moment.
The in-between.
I used to long for life to pause.
For everything and everyone to just stop.
What I wouldn't give now for some silly bullshit to mess with my day.
Now it's just survival.
For what?
Who would really want to stay alive for this?
If there is someone else, how would I ever find them?
I'm going to go out in style.
Wasted off my ass.
Who wants to be sober for their death?
I keep killing them, and they keep coming for me.
Wave after wave of those fuckers.

I want to argue with someone.
I want contact, and an emotion other than despair.

It's my last beer now, and I am starting to hear those things coming.
It's a thunder of a noise.
Louder than you'd expect from the dead.
There is no silence to be found in this world anymore, everything is amplified.
No midday nap in the hammock with only the birds chirping.
No summer smells.
Just the stench of rotting flesh and blood.

I'm spent.
This will be my last stand.
If I can stand.
Or I might just let them have me.
It will be just a drunken blur anyhow.
Then I'll join the masses.
Get in line and join the ranks.

My last Oorah.
I just can't do this anymore.
I have no idea what is going on.
Man. I am so drunk.