The Slaughterhouse

All it would take was another little step to send me to the slaughterhouse,
All guttered up and trussed like a nice big stake oozing with exposed fat
That will fry in a batter, sinking into flesh that some cannibal will devour
And with a relish declare it fine with blood dripping from its gleaming jaws
And grave dirt beneath its hardened claws and blackened heart spitting clots,
Lost in the moment of ecstasy as the taste of sadism rolls down their tongue.

And there's the butcher! Right there with the gleaming scythe ready
To cut a healthy slice of meat and bone and hack it smaller with his axe
And toss the spoiling meat aside to be devoured by flies and their maggot get.

Can you stomach that vile smell of rotten flesh beneath white bandages stained with blood?
Blood that leaks through and spreads across your fingertips like a spider's web,
Binding your eyes and throttling your breath as you dangle limp from the ceiling –
My ceiling, all decorated nicely with red blotches already darkening to black.

So tell me, are you going to push me down that last step looming oh so close?
You brought me here after all. Room black with that vile copper odour perforating its space.
Or are you so much of a coward, chickening out while the mouse sits in the trap, tail between jaws,
Blade sharp and ready, waiting again for the taste of crusted, impure, blood?

Don't think, that after all this time, I'll be so kind as to deny this meat to you
Who've spent years pruning me up for this moment where you can relish
The fine taste of blackened, bitter meat squelched with poison and hate
And pieces of glass to cut your tongue as the blood seeps past unsuspecting jaws
To settle in your heart and clot, because I won't let you forget the taste of my flesh
That you've eaten out into a hollow shell full of malice and unrest.