Where the Living Dead Shop

Slow and lazy
Tired and numb
The walking dead browse in and out
In and out
And all around
Like a ticking clock of death
Carrying in their boney hands
The drugs of life
The substance which they feed on
Glassy eyes
And shaking hands
Some are kind
And some don't care whether or not I smile
Yet nevertheless I must smile kindly
And speak in a loud sickly sweet voice
If I refuse these terms of play
I just might be eaten alive
By the horrid snake that controls this realm
A realm dedicated to severing the dead
As they bring their findings up to me
The reeking stench of rotting flesh overtakes my senses
And I force myself to crack a smile
As they start to throw at me their riches
I choke down my surprise at the vast amounts
My envy
Their hands are like ice against my living flesh
I shiver and force myself to speak
"You total…"
"Your change…"
"Would you like a bag…?"
"Thank you, come again!"
"Have a nice day!"
They glare at my all too lively chipper voice
Slowly they scurry out the door
And leave me behind in this cold realm
Sitting behind a counter of protection
And a mighty register
Another patron comes in
"Hello and welcome to Rite-Aid!"