Emo Scene Community

(please bare with me- this is one of my short stories and obviously not a poem tho id really appreciate to hear what you think about it) It was of a hidden location, which you would only stumble apon if fate was cruel enough to point you in that direction. It was a restaurant that was located god knows where. A restaurant that once it decided you would eat there, you wouldnt be able to refuse. The entrance floor is stained with blood; an early warning of what would come should you try leave this place. The dark dried marks on the concrete dont seem wrong to you, you step over it and it is forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind. Inside is aesthetically pleasing; the colours of ocean blue and grey are the most prominent. It is restful, welcoming and sets you into an hypnotic state of ease- you make your way to a table. All the tables are full, yet you will always be able to find an empty one. The staff are friendly, but they appear not to be all there. As if some higher being is controlling their every action, and they are nothing but chess pieces. They present you a menu, it doesnt take long for you to realize that what they specialize in is meat. Just meat. You order a steak medium rare (no one likes to masticate tough meat). You sip on your tomato cocktail and stare off into the distance, you dont wonder why you are drinking something you never ordered, you dont realize that its actually blood in your glass, you dont notice its what everybody in the restaurant is drinking. You just stare ahead of you; not seeing, not thinking, only being. Your food arrives, it seems you have only been waiting five minutes. The steak is sizzling on its plate, the smell is intoxicating, your mouth is watering, you grab your cutlery and dig in. Blood oozes out the steak onto the white plate, it has only been sealed on both sides- otherwise it is completely raw. You dont care, you are past starving and wolf it down. Never have you tasted meat that is so delicious the taste explodes in your mouth, it is over too soon. You are then taken by a waiter to the kitchen- its only polite to thank the chef personally. Should you wish to make a run for it, you would vomit up your guts, literally, and remain in your juices till the cleaner removes your mess from the enterance floor. But as you do not wish this; you enter the kitchen. The chef wishes to thank you as well, in his hand is a meat cleaver. He moves towards you, raises his arm and brings it towards you in one swift motion. You are no longer being. Your carcass is moved to the freezer (once its been drained of blood and gutted) and there it hangs upside down amongst all the other carcasses that were once customers too, and who's meat will feed the next unfortunate individual to walk through those doors