Craig Podmore

Will You Buy Me? (I Come With a Warranty)

Catharsis on knife-edge,
The hungering perversion
Resides underneath the dust
Of suburban decay.

The nude body,
Salaciously splayed deliciously
Upon a busy market,
Men and women and children
Bite their lips like anorexic cannibals.

They scratch their skin
As their own existence becomes an irritant.
Morgue cock, funereal cunt
Like a monolith, heralded before the people
Has them in awe.

Screens exhibit operations;
Dissection of the penis and the vulva,
Sleazy and sexily so,
Promoters vocally advertise
The infinite usage of women
That they have mounted
Upon dirty obstetrical chairs;

Men inspect the vaginas,
Asking the sellers about the measurements
And tightness of their holes
And whether the subject could
Have anal sex or not.
The anus is spread before them
And proceed to analyse the potential gaping
For rough anal sex.

Each subject is a different model
Customised for certain sexual needs and deviancies.
For those who desire a subject
For such extreme fetishes
Are taken into a nearby dome where more subjects
Are exhibited for interest.

Women tease the male models
And humiliate them regarding their size.
For girth and length inspection,
The sellers are more than happy for them to
Apply some stimulus to the male organs
To see if their product facilitates their needs.

Beyond the markets,
The homes are infested with the dead.
Subjects tossed to the side,
Next to their bins,
Awaiting for collection
So that they can be disposed of.
The streets smell of decaying flesh,
Rats scuttle amidst the bodies
Of fetid decomposition.

For those who do not have such commodities,
Rummage the alleyways for the dead.
These less fortunate individuals
That can’t afford such desired subjects
Go on to fuck the remains.
Some of them take the bodies home
And make use of their innards –
“Waste not, want not” they mutter…

The buyers keep their warranties
Should their subjects die,
However, if murdered by their owners,
The warranty is exempt and will not be able to redeem it.
Some owners have their subjects for a lifetime
But the markets try to deter the owners from doing that
As flesh needs to be capitalised,
The cycle of flesh must be constantly
Purchased, subjects are always advertised
To lure in potential customers.

“Keep your receipts and returns can be valid.”

Some owners make their subjects
Into messiahs;
They dress them up and make them godlike
And then go on to proclaim
That their subject is a deity
Willing to suffer for their desires.
Their sins consumed by the flesh of subjects,
Plasticised like cheap crucifixes from a bargain basket.

The consumption of goods eroticised for the good of man
And the future of the economy in safe hands.
Sometimes we forget,
We are also the goods that makes the greedy hands
Rub the coins erratically in their inhuman pock

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