Gorging ourselves on culinary cadavers.
Sucking the marrow from wet bones.
Separating ligaments and piercing skin
To satisfy the hungry vain.

A fresh kill on the table;
The heat lamps poised, flesh is torn
Sliced and diced along dotted lines,
Expertly carved under butchers' knives.

She licks her lips and thinks, "Too thin, too thin."
From her weary eyes droops tired skin.
She craves another slaughtered dish
Of fatty tissue and human hide.
A leathery meal, pushed from side to side
Of her never nearly perfect body.