You say you want to hear me say that I hate you,
Why can’t you be honest?
You want to hear me say that I forgive you
You’ll keep waiting
There are things I want to say,
But none of it will ever fix me
So what’s the point?
I’ll just be voicing things we both know
I just want you to look me in the eye
And immediately look away
Because that’s how pathetic,
we both know, that you are
that’s all I want from you
-{ksf}

What would you like for dinner, Honey?
Pork? Beef? Human?

Ah, I’m never sure about human.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a free range or organic human ever,
Which has always surprised me, seeing as they choose the environment they live in.
Haha, they have the most ridiculous hierarchy of alpha males and leaders,

The psychopathic lead the docile.
I find it hard to eat this animal,
Always in the back of my head are the rumours
That they have a conscience
Somewhere underneath their thin skulls.

And all the controversies,
About it not being quite human meat,
Or being diseased,
Or the weirdoes, with their
“where did humans come from anyway?”

They barely have any meat in them anyway,
Useless animal really.
Sometimes it’s just fat, sometimes just bone.
I don’t like the chances.
Too much risk.

I think I’ll have some foie gras, or maybe some veal.

Watching smoke curl in the sky
A simmer reflection, a residue of death stealing life
The scent of sweet burning arrives
Between breaths misting predawn light

A womb collects dead children
We hear them shrink and shiver
Their limbs atrophied, their eyes wide

Every kiss is wildfire
Every yearning is weathered
Like the shedding paint on the boards outside
That needed a touchup, a lifetime ago

Every touch is parched
Every trust is dystopian
The flesh departs from neuronal collections
Untraceable to the heart inside

No daughters, no sons
No lovers, no love
No affection, connection; truth or simple trust
No daughters, no sons
No lovers, no love
No future
No hope

they both require so much ******* effort and I cant

*** slave workers
Bent over stained beds
In forgotten brothels
Far from country and home
Have more joy than you
Or I.

Skeleton thin children
With skin stretched
Over illness bloated bellies
In poverty ridden streets
Under a relentless sun
And equally relentless culture
Kick a worn ball around
And feel more hope than you
Or I.

Flea ridden mutts
Runts of the brood
Feasting on garbage
Shying from the kicks
Of rotten teens
And sour drunks
Reciprocate more love
From the hand of a kind stranger
Than you
To I.

Bile grips the gasps of every self-centered ****
They spill the tar out of their hearts onto ****** pavement
Lifeless limbs descend hollowed rooms, to linger over dust
The passing passions left to die in fake laughs