Nothing left long enough to flower Born restless, lifeworn when wrest from the womb which bore me Then dead before an hour, cheap to embalm me The last-long Druid power which cowed even the unflinching legion Remnants of lost cults now lost leagues below the sulk The stone, the truth, the way is the fluid,… Read more: Hourlonglife
Finding a dying God wine drunk in a foetid gutter, honking of piss His and others’ Hiss sounds, escaping steam, holy mutters, cats evading spaying captors Dying by a thousand cuts submerged in cult-cut bull blood Even the milk-swollen flower mother, only love, chose to smother us.
Going to the shaggy beech As my peace-cleaving fast-receding dreams beseech When a leached moon has the dolmen cap painted peach A night when bold evil does not deign to retreat at the utterance of Jesus Floods of underground butter, hidden runnels imp-tunnelled Pulsing with blood-flooding warthunder, delving deep going under.
I don’t care what they do to me, I lost my stake Like Van Helsing’s best weapon broke off in Dracula’s ribcage Duly traded duty and chance at change, for jewellery and short term gain Like a Judas traitor, lost my way, same moment a thousand ways until I changed my fate.
Demons and upheavals, rushing up from a breach A jar of teeth buried on a Dorset beach A mummified cat dustily tugged from the snug Of some medieval trade hub Blood and pain exchanged for something like fame That’s the trade up you can make From the rusty trailer where I labour In lusty disgrace,… Read more: Hexbottle
Alchemisland 
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