I think about my connective tissue. 
I think about the fibers making up my meat…
…my liver, & my heart.
I think of all of the organ meats hacked from corpses, laying on display in a deli cooler.
Liver & onions.
Veal heart stew.
Pâté…
Tongue…
I think of all of the countries that it’s commonplace to eat brains.
cervelle de veau…
Then my mind conjures images of cleavers, bone saws, & shiny sharp blades.
All instruments used for death…tools of killing, and dismemberment.
I think of the broad, flat teeth of herbivores. Large molars for grinding up greenery.
I think of my teeth. My broad, flat teeth…
The others using their flat teeth, & molars for grinding up muscle fiber, connective tissue, sinew….meat. 
Chewing, swallowing…down the hole…it’s the gullet for you, meat.
I blink, thinking of my eyeballs and of every pigs eyeballs…every bovines.
Irises, pupils that dilate or narrow, dependent upon the driving emotion, depending upon the light reaching the cones & rods.
I think of the buckets, the pails, literally teeming with eyeballs by the end of a slaughter shift.
…piles of ear tags.
Piles of heads…
…piles of halters.
Piles of hooves…
The blood.
All of the blood.
I think of all of the blood being hosed away….jetting water, spraying… making all the ruby red disappear down large floor drains.
I immediately think of a box of bandages. 
We stop our bleeding…we cover our tiny cuts, ensuring that they heal quickly.
We cause their bleeding. We slice their throats.
We sever their spinal cords. We cut them deep.
Plunging knives into their soft, warm flesh.
I think about my thighs, my breasts, my ribs, my flanks, my shoulders, & my rump meat being ground up in a meat grinder.
My fat marbling my red flesh.
I imagine being packed in styrofoam & covered in shiny, taught cellophane.
A sell by date stuck to the top….
The freshest, salable decomposing flesh money can buy.
I think about the grocery aisle shoppers, their mouths watering as I’m looked over, laying there, in a cooler.
The addicts….
The flesh addicts.

Total Liberation
Hyde Farmer
Dig Out Your Soul