Alchemisland

Brothers in traumatic blows, contusion and confusion

We are in the shed on another session

Gin-soaked Dionysian, nearing obsession

Barely 20 but sickly, 20 Benson daily, with eyes of a veteran

Confession easier in retrospect, distinctive lack of self respect and whose impressed

Everything hazy a shadowplay, only rudest faintest impression

Off my head like arriving to a funeral and off my stetson

Walk ahead, son. Getting sick it’s fine it’s fine it’s a profession

I went from mad monk mayhem and Medmenham to blissful Carthusian.