Bodays (Bodies, in posh accent)

Poem written by Saad El-Asha on Tuesday 18, September 2018

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All I've known of people is their bodays: Their delicious longing to pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain, I am one of the people. I now piss on my bathtub where it lies facing the door of my bath where the drain flies have left the building due to constant power cuts (Congested toilets), where spiders wallow in the first stages of existential anxiety (Sometimes you need a predator to be an active prey, I presume and assume) I struggle, Not with the drain flies and the spider, To look away from my body and into something else, be it "transcendental" or otherwise; an inspiration for new retinal orgasms. And I don't deem If-You-Prick-Me-Do-I-Not-Bleed an epitome of humanism; I mean, you bloody bleed! What "fascinates" me the most is when I should feel pleasure or pain in the near future, Or When whether you deem (or "consider", if you use English as a second language) this poem too cold to remember. Only remember me as a body like yours.

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    Tell me, what came first? The predator, or the prey?
    What's the prize?