The smell is stronger than my feelings about eating animals. I quicken my pace to pass the meat shop before my gag reflex, both of my stomach and that of my mind, acts up. I squint my eyes to bar my mind from spinning up morbid images. I fail. Everytime.

water from
the butcher’s pail…
red geraniums

Written on September 27, 2026

Notes

By the way, I’m not one from the Don’t eat the sacred cows! fanatics in India. I’m the Stop fucking killing animals if you can, please, for the love of God!!!!! fanatic. So, pretty harmless except for my words, probably, because I won’t unsharpen and blunt them, just like the butcher knifes that slit the throats of animals we eat.