I love fresh flowers so much.
As you bring the knife closer,
i cant help but smile.
the girl, nobody will notice her
will be dead in a while.
to end my pain,
to clear my mind,
to feel sane,
if only one last time.
as it digs in my skin
the pain i feel is not from the cut.
as my world fades away into the dim,
its something deep in my gut,
telling me to fight
and hold on to dear life.
but i still want to die tonight,
to throw up my hands and end this strife.
the last words on my lips that night were “please forgive me”
i spoke to thin air
in hope the message travel to all that may care
(Source: atikhomirov, via stylefucker)
“The institution of butchering is unique to human beings. All carnivorous animals kill and consume their prey themselves. They see and hear their victims before they eat them. There is no absent referent, only a dead one. Plutarch taunts his readers with this fact in his “Essay on Flesh Eating”: If you believe yourselves to be meat eaters, “then, to begin with, kill yourself what you wish to eat, but do it yourself with your own natural weapons, without the use of butcher’s knife, or axe, or club.” Plutarch points out that people do not have bodies equipped for eating flesh from a carcass, “no curved beak, no sharp talons and claws, no pointed teeth.” We have no bodily agency for killing and dismembering the animals we eat; we require implements.”
— Carol J. Adams - Eliding Fragmentation, The Sexual Politics of Meat
"