Content warning: body horror.
Serve my lips with a ladle,
so they may be slurped down like a stew,
heart warming and abundant
Gouge out my tongue and nose and eyes and ears,
Lay them in my cupped, corpseless hands,
a cornucopia
Hide my brain under a cloche, and
Take off its lid a little too hastily to warrant
a spectacle
Plant my ovaries in egg cups next to the tiniest little spoons
Skewer my heart – red, dripping, writhing to be unchained
Spread me out on a long table with fancy silverware and folded napkins
Invite the whole town, or even my entire tiny world to come,
Feast.
because my flesh is not rotting, but it is
rapidly approaching expiration, and
Tell me, what good does moldy meat do?
no.
Eat it now, while it’s fresh and hot and still
lively enough to kick the throats that it slides down
Eat it now, before it eats itself alive out of desperation
Devour me now and let me fill your stomach
Let my substance become your substance
and your substance become mine.
because what the fuck else am i here for ?