The Meat In Me
It’s tough to get beyond the meat in me. It’s the meat that wants to
fuck wild-titted women. It’s the meat that is carnivorous: red meat,
french fries, juicy, slurpy, crispy — give it to me. It’s the meat that
wants to punish others severely for minor infractions. Some days,
when I see some asshole toss a wad of something onto the
pavement right next to a trashcan, the meat in me rises up,
howling, wanting to smash those stupid littering fingers with a bat.
When you think like meat there’s little room for forgiveness.