Remain Amongst The Living Dead Poem by Julia Luber

So obsessive, so compulsive…as if one cares the reasons either;
unlike her cloistering friends, about her crime shows she cares neither.

Even when there's a real monster and an alternative experience too
It seems nothing about her has changed at all: regardless of how true.

She creates her own entrapment.
Her mind Lets her no way out.

Her vindictive reasoning is so intensely driven.
About her pain, she has no doubt.

But about her reason for escaping:
in lieu of how extreme and so well done.

She is nonetheless captivated by the same obdurate boring sun.

So caught up in things so stupid. So gone one would think they'd be.
Her art of plain delusion, is actually ignoring what can see.

What does it take to strip this creature of what she's heard
and who she has known. To somehow fix her current -
in this new land, like a refreshing poem.

Perhaps she can not feel the foreign syntax.
Simply lock jawed by what said.
As if choosing in apotheosis of site and context
To remain amongst the living dead.