Insincere

Sometimes, when I'm quiet and by myself I do remember what it's like to be on the hunt
I usually manage to eliminate myself from those memories, I think it must be some kind of self protection device, but occasionally I do coldly recall the complete lack of sincerity it takes to be successful
The total dedication to the concepts of deception, manipulation and personal gain

Something soft and indiscrete
Something insincere but sweet
Making mildly sucking sounds
Sees its shadow on the ground

The memory thing is kind of like eating, we don't bother to remember what it felt like eating that steak when we were really hungry
Slicing into the charred flesh and watching, as the ruby juice flows from the fresh incision and out onto the otherwise pristine plate and the same single minded dedication that goes into eating that steak duplicates itself in the pursuit of physical pleasure
Hunger and sexual gratification, is there anything else?
Steaks and orgasms, how empty life would be without them