Bon Appetit  

chopping guts  
fish nuts  
slathering corpses  
with peppers  
sauces  
 
desecrating life  
with fork and knife  
depriving them  
of their slice  
their light  
their love  
in fields of grass  
so high  
 
he`ll never mount her  
he`s here  
dead on the counter  
she`ll never  
carry out  
her joyous  
pain of birth  
she`s thankless fodder  
expanding human girth  
 
plastic wrapped  
meat packs  
mangled animals  
turned organic snacks  
fifty wings fried  
for dinner tonight  
twenty five birds  
who`ll never fly  
 
they all just  
die, and die  
die, and die  
their cries  
never heard  
drowned in  
slaughterhouse machines  
as they callously grind  
 
so distantly separated  
from countless  
lives taken  
hosts spend years  
like slaves  
just to bring home  
the bacon