Meat Locker

Feel like forgotten meat inside this freezer world. I see the other slabs as they decay and mold. I want to grab the butchers, open up their throats. Just wash the blood with bleach and ease the flesh which bloats.

This world just crawls with monsters with cleavers in their eyes. They’ll satisfy their lusts and gorge themselves on lies. They’ll convince their victims that they have done no true wrong. They ravage pristine meat then throw it to the dogs.
I’m sick in this sick world, I want to make a stand. Close all the cuts they’ve made and be a man again. Run knives into the butchers’ outstretched, waiting hands. Feed them the degradation of their forced demands. Gather up all the prime cuts, the steaks which once were sweet. Hold them in loving arms and treat them as much more than meat. This world is a giant freezer, a meat locker made by men who seek their thrill and regret no ill will they impose on slaughtered skin. I hate them, hate the traumas, I hate to open up my eyes. Each day inside this meat locker I cringe as another angel dies.
Will they fry her? Truss up and tie her? Deny her humanity? Will they devour, with selfish power, wilt sullen flowers, until they are soured? I’m ashamed of what my race has been. I’m ashamed to be catagorized with them. I feel ashamed to be a man. Because I’ve seen what evils men have been.
Just give me one good steel. A carbon blade, no rust. Let me carve out a full freezer of the butchers who use lust. Let me set a quiet banquet and invite each lady there. They can dine on wine and finally find some strange revenge for pain they’ve bared. I’d like to sit back in the corner and just revel in their sweet smiles. Yet I still am a man and must pay such sin and as their new feast begins I will lay down grim and offer my remorse to them. I hope they make it fast. The days for just feeling sorry are past.