Meat

Bodies gyrating

And undulating

Flesh upon flesh

Clasping and grasping

And grabbing, and groping

Watchers staring, and swearing

And gasping, and gaping -

She is just a piece of meat to him

A collection of orifices

To stick his bills in

And maybe more -

 

Writhing and sliding, and grinding

The pole -

Teasing, and pleasing, releasing

The folds…

Bared shoulder; she winks

He watches, he drinks.

Eyes low and languid

Legs crossed in anguish

His eyes plead with secret beggings

He stuffs notes into her leggings

She is just tonight’s show to him

The plot unfolds and unravels

With the titular character

In this play called “Meat.”

 

She sheds the last shreds;

What remains of her dignity

Falls to the ground

And collects around her feet.

The catcall cries,

The lustreless eyes

Are all centred on her;

On her gyrating nothingness,

On her bared soul…

In the half-light she dances

Casts suggestive glances

On a table, on a lap,

She can make it clap

As the plot - around her - unravels

The drool could be pooled in barrels

Upon barrels, of depravity.

Now, up close

He can see grains ’round her nose…

As she sells her merchandise

An empty soul, vacant eyes

Promise untold measures

Of pleasure…

 

And she is just an empty vessel

Willing, or unwilling vassal

Just a collection of orifices.

Her secrets, once uncovered

And - perhaps - played with

Soon bore her fickle audience

Who demand ever to see more

Till there’s no more to be seen…

 

Then she’s replaced in the shop window

Gnawed and mangled, spoiled and beat

By another, fresher piece

Of meat.