I put the steak in my mouth
i feel ill at the taste
my insides are alien
my hands not mine
eating this packaged meat
my thoughts are untethered
my mind runs ablaze.
is this just a luxury cow
butchered and packaged
ready to be eaten?
is this just luxury human
butchered and packaged
ready to be eaten?
how do I trust what ends up on my plate
how do i not just naw at the blood in my veins?
the knife in my hand
the knife in my neck?
What am i but an animal
an animal who declares itself better
better to eat you first
then to dine on one another?
Could i stomach one more bite
stomach it as if the knife went through the same as if it were my own leg?
I believe i would know
know for certain if i would eat myself
eat human flesh rather than non-human cow?
But how could i know if I hadn't butchered it by myself
could i really know
would i even find out?
How would i even fucking know?
YOU ARE READING
Coherence
PoetryThis is a poetry collection that is both ever updating and ever changing. This collection of poetry isn't exactly traditional or ever a solid complete piece of prose, I am ever adding and changing and morphing them into something I feel is better or...
