Alchemisland

She elevates a room like faint background Mozart

Half painted backroom like some’ from Mos Eisley

Full of boxes like the exciseman’s prize, not fit for Her Highness

At her full height with arms astride and legs apart, my Vitruvian venusian woman

Women in Dublin 

Weak for cuddling, her eyes start puddling

Her eyes leak live like videos of missile salvos landing on liveleak

Like they need a plug

She weeps for sadness, weeps for love

All things above are white as doves but so below

I’m baked like bun oven on shrubs, my hoed garden green as Ardenne

In my own head again like on shrooms, hardening myself to thoughts of you with other men

Chasing shadows across the room because they looked like you

Through the shade moves a darker shade, surely walks though sight evades

Upbraids a room empty save his own stature, fearful statue of trodden down once handsome

Bleak thoughts his mind invade, until he is afraid to think at all

The vase of his mind fractured, mistakes in migration circular.