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An Apocalypse of Calculus
January 12, 2014
The yawns, the moans, the aches,
then the crack of a neck.
Fighting with other survivors,
our weapons on the desk.
The frigid air blows,
down their crooked spines.
Our tired eyes close,
making us slowly blind.
We wake from slumber,
quick, stirring, alert.
Living through the fight,
only adds to the hurt.
Our leader speaks,
and drones on and on,
never stopping to realize,
that we’re mostly gone.
There’s no survival,
going down this path,
because these are the attempts,
of teaching zombies math.
© Rikki W., Voorhees, NJ
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