Meating

I know you. I fucking know you. Oh, I've seen you before. Somewhere between a grizzled steak and a pile of shit. That smile peeks around a corner of hell and hair. You like money. The greens remind you of folks, the white sand beaches, bacon in the waves, a brother only fake tits could love. And weed. You've waited for so long.....

I know him too. I've seen him before. His head made of soft pork, shaded by a white rimmed chromosome. Breathing via le mouth, mumbling through dix, touching you on the way to the tanning bed. Maybe I'll stop by the gym....

You coward.
So am I.
Rubbed in sour pine. Sap seeped.
Burned.

I know you. You are made of meat.