Meat elements eating by a Japanese full of understanding
by Edy Poppy

He often had the impression that they were eating each other with their eyes. That the eyes were as magnets, almost, and that they were so attracted to each other that it was grotesque.

   Some will try to describe this desire. That everything comes from it. This desire that was so enormous that they could jump on each other, eat each other, a little. And then consummately. Eat each other for real.

   Posey with a cigarette in her hand. And he biting his lips. Posey doesn't wear any clothes today. When she laughs he watches her sex shaking in a sort of innocent convulsion. She thinks : slanted eyes see slanted things. He notices the lack of brown in her eyes and knows that he is her first Japanese. This is how she experiences it: the Japanese lets himself be completely dominated. It is her body that takes control. Is maternal. Cradles him between the thighs. Lets him suck the breast. As if he were a little boy, she takes him in her arms. Makes him use himself. Uses him up. Until he has given and falls asleep.

   The skin is very important. Eyelids, hollows of the knees, insides of the thighs, undersides of the arms, all these are parts of the soft place. The one he likes to touch. He strokes the skin, admires the long neck. Her skin is white as a Scandinavian's, white and transparent, a skin that is easily irritated and thus turns pink, in some places. And the blue veins that sew the skin together. All this is essential. And the brown spots that become freckles on the lips.
He dries the skin. Maybe he coats it in flour, as we do with certain fishes. Plucks out the red hairs with a pair of tweezers. Under the arms, on the thighs, the face, over the eyes; the eyelashes must also go. The red hairs are the spice of the body. The source of the flavour. But around the ears the hair is blond. Light blond. Long and light and unkempt.

   Sometimes it happens that Posey feels so lonely that she wakes him up. Screams at him. Smashes teeth. Lacerates his face with a mirror. Or breaks a chair over his head.
She says : When you are sleeping you look like a flounder. Sharp curved eyebrows, big lips, full and half-open, your nose is petite, your face round, flat, lacking in contour.

   With what is left of nails she gouges deep lines up his back. She asserts her liking for the sound of skin being peeled off, shuddering down the length of her body. Yes, that it is sexual.
He thinks :The broken mirror. And looks at her fingers. He wants to put them in his mouth. To lick the pieces of glass. To tear apart his own tongue.

   Some remark that Posey's movements are too slow. That they suffer from some sort of delayed action. That she moves as if she were in two places at once, and therefore is not fully co-ordinated.

   The Japanese claims that Posey's eyes are sad. That sometimes she can start to cry without reason. And that he likes that, the lack of reason. That he likes Posey and her problems. Such as when she lies down in the bath and waits for the water to cover her. With clinging clothes that accentuate her body through the fabric. She never seems so naked as when she is wet and her hair looks like spaghetti.
He insists on the fact that she likes to be under water. Especially when all becomes transparent. That she often turns over onto her front with her head down. The water makes the tears look ridiculous and the skin transform. She concentrates on how it wrinkles, how the hair raises.

   Some believe that he accepts it all out of love, but that he never will successfully contain her violence. And that in the end he will be forced to leave her. Because he will have failed.

   Posey says to the Japanese that he shouldn't care about that. About what others say. That he had been missing her anyway and was happy to be woken up.
So it is. Posey with a cigarette in her hand, and he biting his lips. Soon he might begin to bleed from his nose. And she will laugh again. Because blood is nice. Because she likes to see blood pouring from his face. And because he doesn't say anything. Because he is a non-violent man that lets himself be violated.
He thinks : Blue eyes see blue things. Like the pain that he feels right now, that hurts. And he wonders why he likes them so much. Her eyes. Or why he uses so much time to look at them. To look her in the eyes.
Posey says : I can not imagine that you have ever been able to live without my gaze, without my eyes to observe you. It is as if you have been lying in hibernation and waiting to exist. And all the memories that you have from before you met me are merely dreams. The frustration is that it must be the same for everyone. The only solution is to become famous, and therefore to be seen, as much as possible.

   Some thought that was what the Japanese had been hoping for. To become alive, in everybody's eyes. But what he hadn't taken into account was that now everybody knew what he was, they all wished him dead.

   The Japanese doesn't answer. But he thinks about what she has said. For a long time. Much too long. Sickly long.
Sometime during the afternoon she dresses and they eat dinner together. Posey likes to mince the meat, to cut into things with a newly sharpened knife, to make the meat splutter in the pan, to dry her dirty hands on the apron. And what she makes is always good. Food never tastes as good as it does with Posey.
She says : You are not born with morals. You learn them little by little. In a way we can say that a child's brain is filled with itself, with its own fantasies, but they are slowly but surely replaced by knowledge and ethics. And that is why the child's brain is more freethinking and perverse than anyone's.
He answers that she smokes too much. That she is making her lungs ugly. Brown lungs. But he never talks about himself. Nor does she ever ask about what came before. She says : If a man wants to make a woman happy, he should hold in his own orgasm for as long as possible.
He admits to thinking that she should exercise her sexual muscle, to make it tighter. So that even after intense lovemaking she can feel like a virgin.
She asks if she can take off her panties. If she can roll up her dress and pose in front of him on the edge of the chair. So that he can kiss her all around. So that he can kiss her all around and end up in the centre, there where everything comes from. He wishes very strongly to hold her by the hips, to press her body forwards, into a bow, to give her a slow massage, and then to move elsewhere. Inside the house or outside the house. But always without panties.

   Reaching the feminine organ is the pinnacle of all this. The ultimate moment. He must approach it with the utmost diligence. The odour is very pervasive, also the liquid that seeps out of the organ. It should be prepared as some sort of animal. An animal living in the sea that should be eaten raw, cut into slices. With the flowing liquid. And he licking at it, sucking it up. Until not a single drop is left.

   She binds herself to the bed, arms and legs stretched apart. And the knot is just tight enough not to hurt. Just tight enough to restrain her. She wonders if he might hit her vagina. Pinch her breasts. Maybe drag her by the hair as he penetrates, or as he masturbates. Then she tells him to use a dildo. To be more and more violent. Faster.
He asks if he should blindfold her eyes.
She answers that this is what she wants. This and all the other things that follow.

   Some believed that they had gone too far. That they had crossed over the fine line. And that there was no way back. That what followed was natural. Considering the situation.

   For one moment she feels herself disappear totally into the mouth of the Japanese. She insists on the fact that she likes the taste of his part. That it is a very special taste. That whenever she catches the scent she becomes hungry. That as soon as he takes off his pants she wants food.
He smiles. A fleeting sort of smile. He says that she makes him hungry too. Her sex, especially. That he likes to grip it with his whole hand and drag her against him. And that sometimes he feels like ripping it out.
And suddenly she is afraid. Afraid because she is blindfolded. Afraid because she has tied herself down. Afraid because she suddenly starts screaming. Screaming so loudly that she can no longer hear what he is doing. The Japanese.

   Divide the body into five: forelegs, hind legs and saddle. Remove skin and sinew carefully, especially the strong light sinew along the spine. Put the off-cuts to one side for a bouillon.
Mix the marinade and put in the meat to soak. There should be enough marinade to cover the meat. The flesh can lie in the marinade for up to twelve hours before it is taken out and dried thoroughly. The fat is cut into thin strips, rolled in salt and pepper and the meat is tenderised with a mallet. In order that the back does not bend during roasting, stick a long skewer or knitting needle through the spinal marrow as necessary. Brown the butter in an iron pan and sauté the meat lightly on all sides. Baste with bouillon and allow the body to roast in the oven (200°, or gas mark 6) for 11⁄2 hours or until tender. Blend in the cream at the end of the roasting period. Strain off the juices from the meat, whisk and use as gravy.

   My love for her was sickly strong. It reached such heights that it was dangerous. Life could be lost.
The love was so great that he wanted to have her, be her, become one.
That is why:
Skin ripped off, with something sharp. A scalpel or scissors, probably.
Maybe to lay it over himself. To know what it is like to be her and to feel his skin. To know how his fingers sense her, and then the other way round, how it is to be her fingers and to touch him. To masturbate.
He thinks : The sex can be used for the lips. The nipples feel like fruit-drops. And the hands are instead of gloves.

   The meat is full of substance. It contains lots of lust-giving ingredients. It creates energy, augments virility.

- What is he doing now?
- Is she dead, or is it more interesting if she is present and can follow what is happening?
- Is she just suffering, or can she too feel the sexual side of all this?
- Can she forgive him?

   The Japanese dreams all night. About what is melting on the tongue. It is so tender that when you cut into it the blood pours out.
He decides that nothing will be wasted. That no matter what the consequences, he will see it through. Give it his best, his very best. The red meat.

(calf, rabbit, poultry)
That which serves life
(ox, sheep, horse) Red meat <-- and MEAT and --> Black meat (wild, prey)
gives us nourishment
Holy meat
(man, woman)

   She wakes him up, with a cigarette in her hand. Posey.
This is how he remembers her, mostly: She shows off her scars. Especially the one under her eye. When they kiss she sucks so hard that he can hardly breathe. So hard that his tongue almost comes loose. So hard that if she had continued it really would have done so. The tongue

   Memory. Something that brings you back into the story. Back to when she awakens him and further back to before he falls asleep. This period is the focal point of everything. This is where all the details come from. Those which may be of any interest.
But he mixes things together. Remembers only episodes. Or episodes of episodes. Pieces. And in no order. He no longer knows what came before what, and what that led to. Whatever happened. He only partly remembers that he woke up.

   It is important to continue the visualisation of the body. Of how he tears off the skin, of what is revealed underneath: The heart that beats. Blood. Muscle. If he cuts it away, describe the sound. If he eats it, describe the taste.

   Posey with a toothbrush in her hand will brush her teeth so hard that they start to bleed. Almost screaming. Will keep the blood in her mouth and not spit it out. And then will smile when the red has had its effect on her teeth and gums.
He says : When I have the choice between a woman that is both beautiful and mad, and one that is only beautiful, I always choose the mad.
She answers that she wants a man who is in constant erection. A real hard man. A man to sit on. A man she can strike, but who is nevertheless stronger than she. That is what she wants, Posey. And that is what she has found, in the Japanese.
He says : OK.

   Both arms are cut off and the contents are removed. The vagina is put in a bell jar as a sort of trophy. The tip of the nose is in the ashtray with the cigarette butts. The mouth however has disappeared without trace, along with all the rest.

   The flowing blood is perhaps most impressive of all, most visual. The sound of the blood is also manifest, as is the colour it adds. The way everything it touches turns red. The way the tears flow red and the sound drowns out the screams.

   The Japanese had reached that particular level of violence where Posey ceased to feel any pain. What followed was only sound and vision. Sounds of meat being cut, minced. Sounds of skin against teeth. Sounds of swallowing. And then visions of the Japanese.
She tries to describe these visions. Of him in the process of making love to her.
And that through him, through the look that she brings to his face, it is herself that she sees. She looks at him trying to see her more clearly. Tries to understand what he feels. Tries to feel what he feels. Dies.

    In a few days time he will have to explain.
He says : She had been exciting me all day, forcing her sex on me even while she was talking.
And then he cries, because it was the ultimate meal, the only meal. Because now there is no-one left.

   Some admit to understanding him. The Japanese. That if they really try to understand, then it is possible, what he has done. A result of the most extreme form of passion. And that he never could have eaten her if he had not loved her, so much.