Searching for the name of this pain
Maybe find the knife that is jutting out of my chest
Because when no one is looking
I know that red lines will spread across my skin like red vines spread across the table
And while the lines are healing
The black hole is screaming inside
but its  constricting the lungs' oxygen supply
like the boa constrictor squeezing the life out of it's meal
The prey slowly losing the light in its eyes as it is consumed so quickly
The heaviness in my gut is sickening
As as I sit at the dinner table full of delicacies
I try to remember the joy they come with
The sweetness of this cherry pie
The savoriness of the poultry being passed around
Taking just enough not to be questioned
because if they felt how I felt inside
if they felt the knife in my chest when they hugged me
if they saw the light in my eyes dimming
if they felt the heaviness in my stomach
And when they ask me how I'm doing
I hope they don't notice my knees quaking and voice quavering
I hope they don't notice the fear that is sticking out of my pocket as I try to find answers

They look at my scars and ask me why
But unable to give them answers
I just let the tears flow
The begin to notice the cherry pie still on my plate
the lack of movement of my fork
I just shake my head
Because how are you supposed to explain the knife in your chest that doesn't have a name
How do you explain the red lines that spread across your skin
And the red vines that have become stale that are spread across your table
When you don't even have a name for the pain you feel inside
when you don't even know where the knife came from
When at the end of the day all you can see is these red lines and red vines
And all you feel is the pain inside

Lost to me.

Did you know the skin
On your lips are the most sensitive
On your entire body?
The softest, most tender touch
Of your finger run excruciatingly slowly
Across them feels...

Lost to me.

Did you know our eyes
Can spot a candle's flicker
Over fourteen miles away?
The softest, most comforting glint
Shining from your eyes looks...

Lost to me.

Did you know our pristine ears
Can hear the music and ruckus
Of almost three hundred thousand sounds?
The breathy, raspy whisper
From your lips sounds...

Lost to me.

Did you know our taste
Is the fastest response in our bodies,
Determining sweet versus savory
In less than a millisecond?
The savoriness of you
Is...

Lost to me.

Did you know that most of our memories
Are locked away in box whose key
Is our ability to smell?
The scent of home, of hot cocoa and lavender,
Of old spices, and old pipe smoke
Float on a breeze...

Lost to me.*

What I have now is but the memory,
For with this descent, all my being numbs,
And each of my senses are

Lost to me.

“To beef…or not to beef?”
The words of an enthusiastic
Italian butcher.

In our cognitive dissonance,
we know it’s a vice.
That fleshy desire for flesh.

It just hits different, right?
The chewiness of meat.
Its unique savoriness.

There’s nothing like it.

In the moment, there’s nothing better.
It arouses the senses.
It leaves us wanting more.

How ironic this iron-laden food is.
Heme iron, that is.
Something we need for our own flesh.

Bovine flesh fed on iron-rich grass.
Thriving until dead…
by the rancher’s hand.

Leafy heme is clean.
But meaty heme tastes the best…
Just only in the moment.

Moments after the moment,
fatigue falls upon us.
Then remorse repeats itself.

Time after time,
it corrodes arteries
from the inside.

Indulging in a little death,
we briefly feel alive,
but ultimately lose our spirit.

It’s like a carnal sin that we celebrate.
Carnival:
Farewell to meat.

Then we repent.

Then we meet.

Then we repeat.