It's Tuesday
and I'm
pushing my trolly through
the congested
intestines
of consumerism.
Today,
Safeway is digesting
middle class mums
and geriatrics,
at lunchtime
snacking on
paint splattered
tradesmen
excreting them
into the heat
with bread rolls
and sugary treats.
I take a break
in the secluded
frozen food aisle,
relax my plastered on smile,
before being propelled
across polished floors
by the promise
of a pay-check.
Nothing more,
nothing less.
This system
chews us up
until our lives
become unrecognisable,
homogenised.
If we are lucky
we will disagree
with the sensitive stomach
of the beast,
be regurgitated
covered in
saliva
but still alive.
If not,
we become
excrement,
shit on the floor
of some corporate monster
that has squeezed us
until
we steam
with
capitalist
heat.
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