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You talk about your past lovers like cuts of meat; The big ******* on this one, the thick thighs on that one, the firm *** on the other. You call them Chicken, Cow, Pig. You call me Dear. I walk into your abattoir  of my own accord and tie myself to the gambrel, ask you to slaughter me, please, slaughter me. Always the slaughterer, never the slaughtered, I want to know what it feels like. You do as I ask: strip away my skin, slice open my chest, remove my vital organs. You have to separate my consciousness from my carcass to finish. I am venison, fresh. You mount my head on your wall next to the others and shut my eyes.
0
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
CARNIVORE
You talk about your past lovers like cuts of meat; The big ******* on this one, the thick thighs on that one, the firm *** on the other. You call them Chicken, Cow, Pig. You call me Dear. I walk into your abattoir  of my own accord and tie myself to the gambrel, ask you to slaughter me, please, slaughter me. Always the slaughterer, never the slaughtered, I want to know what it feels like. You do as I ask: strip away my skin, slice open my chest, remove my vital organs. You have to separate my consciousness from my carcass to finish. I am venison, fresh. You mount my head on your wall next to the others and shut my eyes.
#gore
hkr
Written by
hkr
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
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