MEAT LOVERS
‘I’d spent 40 years longing for it, dreaming about it. And now I was getting the feeling that I was actually achieving this perfect inner connection through his flesh, which tastes like pork but stronger.‘
– Armin Meiwes (after being sent to prison for killing and cannibalizing Berndt Brandes, a man from Berlin who had posted an ad on a cannibal website looking for a man to eat him alive)
Today I am Armin a lusty computer tech from Rotenburg. And you are Berndt a broken-hearted Berlin engineer. Months ago, I lost my mother, my father having left us long ago. Last week, you were rejected by your mistress for still loving men. Today I put up an ad on the website Cannibal Café looking for a man to eat. Tomorrow, you put an ad on the website Cannibal Café looking to be eaten. We’re like those giddy star-crossed-lovers of yore. We’re Romeo and Juliet meets the Donner party.
We meet, we have sex, we get down to penis business. Alas, we can’t seem to swallow your penis for the life of you. Too chewy, too tough, too full of zeal! I do my best. I try panfrying it. I try a little salt, pepper, garlic, rosemary, and wine. It goes to the dog.
I can sense you getting cold feet with each failed swallow. Literally—ha! Referring to your blood loss. In and out, in and out. Should I stay or should I go? Oh the heartbreak in your glassy eyes.
I beg you for one more shot at loving you. Though I confess to freezing in my moment of destiny. There’s so much of you to choose from, I almost can’t decide. There’s too much blood and not enough time. And I’m getting hornier and hungrier. Horny and hungry enough for us both.
You must forgive me, my love, I couldn’t help it. Your eyes, they saw right through me. Your soul it kept calling out to me. I want to be eaten, I need to be consumed! I couldn’t bear your shame anymore. Oh, how I failed you, my dearest Berndt. I wish you could’ve lived to taste your rump roast. I wish you could’ve seen the feast I made of you. The candles and wine, what I like to call princess potatoes and ambiance. Please know your sacrifice didn’t go to waste. It fed me that night, it fed me all winter. I thought maybe you might fill me forever.
Alas, my pride. All those pissants in the chat rooms. Nein, nein, nein, they said. I call shiza! No amount of videos could convince them our consummation. Nor the tutorials: How to Store, How to Fricassee, The Best Cuts and How to Season Them. Oh the wisdom I wanted to share with the world.
In the end, I guess I got what my just desserts. All my boasts about your roasts–ha!
Austria may have no laws against cannibalism. But they don’t shine to assisted suicide. Or murder, as they eventually convicted me. Oh, it’s not so sad a story. I’ve been granted the gift of time. To read, to write, to reflect upon my life.
So it was that I renounced my meaty ways. Found a taste for vegetarianism. Denounced that lust which fueled me all my unfulfilled years.
And anyway, how could one ever find a finer feast than you were, my dear Berndt? Your ribs, your thighs, the succulence of your loving loins! A sprinkle of salt and pepper, a dash of garlic and rosemary. Princess potatoes, a glass of fine wine to anoint my unholy communion.
Friend and lover, sustenance and soul, please forgive me, my dearest Berndt! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, oh how your soul still consumes me. Each night as I’m freed from my bonds. Left to roam the streets in disguise.
A new man in search of new love.
Redemption through insatiable hunger.
Food for the soul.
Amen.
About the artist
Drevlow is EIC of BULL and poet laureate of bull. You can check out more of his bull stuff at thedrevlow-olsonshow.com or on twitter, insta, face, bsky, & threads @thedrevlow.
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