Pig-Kill

The mind, when confronted by absolute material horror, often performs an immediate and agonizing rupture with the body, locking the consciousness into a state of perpetual hyper-awareness. This poem plunges us into the Carcass-Suspension Protocol, a clinical hellscape where the speaker is a preserved "chunk of flesh," entombed by ice but cursed with a "never-ending awareness" that violently glows against the tender meat of its neighbors. It is a terrifying philosophical assertion that the modern condition is one of frozen preservation, an existence defined by the "cobalt, vision" of pure, painful clarity amidst political and biological debris. The self becomes a critique of the system by simply existing, feeling-full of a profound emptiness that only the "absolution of Pigkill" might resolve.

Pig-Kill

I am suspended with other chunks of flesh in the refrigerator of a madman. I am preserved and lined up, one among countless carcasses, while icicles hang silently from my frozen body. I, too, have been entombed by the ice, standing like a carcass perpetually suspended on a hook, and embryonically aloof towards the cold, translucent, rain-fed sheet of ice that has formed on me.

I looked at the reflection of my eyes

in the tender flesh of the sack of meat to my right.

Violently glowing, ripped apart,

awake,

never-ending awareness.

Hunting in the unconscious

I felt prepared for the cessation of blood,

the halting march of tiny individuals,

the balloons that climbed again,

a clear path to health.

In my mind, there was a vision of being ejected out of a garden hose - a full shot of my body. I witnessed my lifeless body accumulating atop others,

more names for the newscaster to read on teliprompters

They left me here to dream my dreams

The other critters hanging in this brutal place don’t understand

About words like “justice,” “crime,” or “punishment”

They would understand, however, the cacophony

That small-mouthed poets music

So the night ticks on, shifts heavy, with no stomach, ,

Hate, day in day out

Living feeling-full of emptiness

Your morning chill air forces me to wake

Electric light bulb burning my cobalt, vision I am angry

Half-gone in a rosy muted-afterglow

I find a sudden lump of heart in my throat

The eye-kissing mouth

I kick and tangle as the rump of the steer

Bite smells of grease and salt

Red turpentine

The cow’s empty heart

The absolution of Pigkill smashing down against

Manmade Liberty

Learned laziness of calf legs, all down a newborn way

The red odd blunt bow

On white apron, my proud uniform

Rain

Grey swirl on the window

Winding sound or maybe even sleet

That would fall, always falling always marched

A soldier to this wet wintery wall.

I vanquish warmth, reassure hatred

Never alone and always surrounded by those that are alive

The talented hands around me

Loving my insulator – plasticankled that cubling foetus mask

The Absolution Engine

The poem configures itself as an Entombed-Consciousness Generator, immediately establishing the speaker’s existence as a paradox: a sentient "chunk of flesh" locked within the Carcass-Suspension Protocol of the refrigerator. The consciousness is hyper-activated by the freezing state, leading to the terrifying revelation of "never-ending awareness." This state is violently reflected in the Cobalt-Vision—the electric light burning the eye, forcing a detached, clinical, and angry sight that reveals the essence of modern alienation: the subject is suspended, preserved, and hyper-conscious, but utterly stripped of agency, experiencing existence as a "Living feeling-full of emptiness." This physical and psychic preservation leads directly to the Media-Spectacle Flow. The vision of the body being "ejected out of a garden hose" and accumulating as "more names for the newscaster to read on teliprompters" demonstrates how individual trauma is instantly deterritorialized and converted into consumable, frictionless content. The self is merely a data point for the societal machine. The poem then contrasts this human spectacle with the pure, non-ideological material of the "other critters," whose understanding is limited to "the cacophony / That small-mouthed poets music," affirming the superior honesty of non-human, raw existence over human concepts like "justice" or "crime." The climax is the Pigkill Absolution Engine. The act of "Pigkill smashing down against / Manmade Liberty" signifies the necessary Negation of the False Ideal. Liberty is exposed as an ideological construct that requires the constant, visceral sacrifice of raw matter. The hatred the speaker reassures is the only affective insulation against this truth. The final, chilling synthesis is the embrace of the Foetus-Mask Insulator, the "plasticankled that cubling foetus mask." The speaker’s survival depends on vanquishing warmth and regressing to a pre-subjective, insulated, and deliberately non-human state, confirming that the ultimate political act is the complete biological surrender to cold material truth, thereby surviving the brutal, hyper-conscious limbo.