screech

July 18, 2013

 

The train screams to empty

its insides out and I spot

you then, chosen not so

much by me but the sun

spilling shadows squinting

my eyes to illuminate your

figure, the first of the day.

 

I wrap my fingers round

the ringlets of tough fur

and bend the neck down

over the table to look

into your innocent eyes

searching for some answer

I hope you find.

 

I wait for you to stop

kicking and trust in my

blade as it severs the

mind from your heart,

but it keeps pumping

into the bucket beneath

your blinking eyes.

 

I move on to the next but

I don’t leave you behind.

In my thoughts you still

linger, with every new victim

I spot traces of your face.

I see the same liberated

blood bubble at the stump

of a neck I let hang limp

over the edge of my sanity.

I see the masses,

I see the terrorized lump

of animal bodies together

as one, as you, well,

at least for today.

 

I strike without anger.

I slice without hate.

I kill for my country.

I ask not where the cow goes.

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