Zombie Codex

1.1

Out of this corner the dead-end of rearranged furniture and wishbone stains. He comes to stare through the windows of fear, like a boa constrictor on a baby’s crib. Look over the edge, moonlight in the palm trees and sound through the silent city: footsteps, shambling. The dream is to enter the palace, crinkling leatherized cloth, the dried layer of decomposed skins through t-shirt. The disease chapel.