Barbarous Dinner

A night-cap poem which contains adult themes. Consume at your own risk.

Autumnal Cannibalism Salvador Dalí

Nights in the city,
three-course debauchery,
partake of polished flesh
with Dahmer-like dignity.
Sunset fizzles, an iced aperitif,
sneak a supple slice
dipped in flesh-colored cheese.

Below scanty string thongs,
the skyscrapers are nude;
ebony phalluses
to be consumed.
Ripped stocking street lights
draped over back doors
shout, “Squeeze and stab
until she’s sore.”

Nights in the city,
compact lake reflections,
hairspray halogens,
Botox injections, and
propped up flesh.
Plunge into a main course,
steam and stroke
her doughy chest.

A forkful of face,
tug of braided hair,
a pinch of guilt,
covered up with despair.

Nights in the city–
the guts, the glimmer,
the moist nitty-gritty;
indulgent end to a
barbarous dinner.

© 2023 | K.Hartless


  1. You’ve written this poem is such a unique style. I’m not sure but it sounds like the darker side of urban life and the excesses of the city’s nightlife. A sense guilt and despair, which is intertwined with the indulgence and consumption of the city.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Nailed it. I had once such night recently. Pleasure, guilt, transformation.
      The city seems to pulse differently at night. There is a feast of something that may not be good for us, and het such an urge to indulge. I appreciate your thoughtful insights. Thank you.


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