david salazar

two poems


"Armin Meiwes' Song"


What is cannibalism but the holiest of acts?

You dream of being taken apart, I dream of taking you apart.

You are missing body parts, I have blood on my teeth.

A kiss is just the start of devouring one another;

tell me this right before you pull me into a frenzy of teeth.

I will pull at your lips until they come clean off, 

feed you pieces of yourself until there's nothing left but your mouth.


Love is overwhelming and asphyxiating,

love is having your liver stored in a freezer,

love is bleeding out in a bathtub.

What do you want? Apart from your own destruction, I mean.


Will you ever be happy if I don't kill you? Can't we get married instead?

Our love is illegal, our destruction of each other even more so.

Tell me this—tell me how you want to be killed, and I will carry it out.

A gruesome death or one second here the next not, I'll give it to you.

I will make a monument out of your corpse for you.

I will carry your bloodied body and eat it for you.

What do you want me to do? I will do whatever you wish.


There is nothing here but us, the blood in our mouths.

Victim and killer, lovers. The morality of consensual homicide 

will end up in the news. Maybe that'll be the only thing

stopping them from giving me the chair.


I'll go vegetarian for you. You see,

I don't want to eat anyone but you.

As you bleed out in my bathtub, I will say a quick prayer

thanking God for giving me true love—and

I'll thank him for this meal, too.




Love is about food,

that's what people tend to say—love is 

about sharing a clementine slice by slice,

about feeding your lover, about clinking glasses of wine together;

about making every piece of toast just right.

Love is about eating.


When people say that,

they do not think about you pressing a saw against your husband's forehead, 

lines of blood coating his face.


You have to eat him, because this is what you do.

You take the things you love and eat them,

you take the things you hate and eat them,

you take the things you've been betrayed by and eat them.

It's easy to cannibalize your own feelings at the table

instead of dealing with them,

dealing with the fact you still love him despite

all that he has done to you.


Your husband never protests to his fate,

the long thread of love around you like the knife pressed

against both of your stomachs;

a why never passes past his lips.

Ever since he met you, ever since he saw you,

he knew he would end at your dinner table.


Not out of disgust, 

like most of the others before him;

but out of a love and respect so deep,

that it belongs at the table and at the table alone.


So when they ask you,

Why did you eat your husband's brain?

you reply,

Because it is the most beautiful part of him.


And the most beautiful part of him 

deserves a banquet to its name.

13 March, 2021

David Salazar (he/xe/she) is a teenaged writer from Chile. Xe is nonbinary, bisexual and autistic, and has been writing since xe has memory. She has been published in The Daily Drunk, Paper Crane Journal and is forthcoming in others. You can find him on Twitter at @smalllredboy.