Youth Voices

Hunting Season

August 8th, 2016     by Faith Paré     Comments

First, preheat earth to 3,5000 years of feminine submission. so they’ll sweat out their names from the swelter.View every life as livestock, nubile body parts by-product. They are to be branded back alley jailbait, stamped grade-A tramp, their hearts left dog tagged.

Next, select your preferred flesh from your local butcher block sidewalk. The more mild, the more pleasing to the palate, but even the thickest skin can be prepared tender and trembling. With kitchen knife pupils, tuck and slit at each physique with careful precision—scrutinize legs and loins, bountiful breasts the thickness of thighs. They’re pigeonholed for a purpose.

Then sweet talks the lambs straight to the slaughter. When presenting a gourmet grin, seal your incisors behind ziploc lips, or they’ll spot the limbs of the ones snared before stuck between your teeth. Pour upon them cups of pet names, spoon-fed titles like sugar and honey: one part compliment, two parts predictions of what they’ll become— guilty pleasures without substance. Wash your hands clean of guilt as their guard reaches a boiling point, melts into gullibility. The gutless will make less of a mess when gutted.

Now strike the catch when least expected. Leave no witness who would cry wolf. Lunge and indulge in the whores d’oeuvres——their agony is appetizer, their pain foreplay. Centre your crosshairs on the cream of the crop, click the trigger, smother any flames of mercy that may lick at your conscience. Nature has no pity for prey—— the helpless offer themselves to be hogtied. The world is your oyster of pretty pearled girls, bred for the clean cuts to their trust, the domestication of their dispositions, the breaking through their egg shell self-esteem.

Finally, stewing in your starved machismo, serve your prized peep show on a silver platter to the tableful of patriarchal pack animals, alpha males more in heat than human. Toast to the delicate delicacies sip from their collarbones, relish in the carcasses contorted for for your consumption. Peel back their rinds and sink teeth into skin they once thought was safe

and after—— fingers sticky, belts unbuckled, and doggy bags brimming with a second round—— ask that woman what she is. Savour the syrupy syllables as she swallows her pride to deep throat your dominance, and spills from her lips,

                                                           "Anything you want me to be."

Tags: youth

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