Alchemisland

She is riveting, has me exhausted

Señora doing sauce, the steaming faucet rivering she elbows off

See you’re doing sauce, my voice carries across the room

I’m not far behind, my hands on her ass like frost on grass

Under the glass lid of the pan something class is in the planning

She slaps my hand but I’m a naughty man and I try again

One more misdemeanour and I’m banished to the landing

I understand, tell her it was a misunderstanding and stand by silently

With nothing to go on I can only guess what’s stewing

Smells good enough to gorge on, can’t meet her eyes like the Gorgon

Know she wants me but not in the kitchen, not with her forge on

Black as forged stout the stove handles, four dials ignite the candles

The sauce is brought to stand on, it bubbles like a brook, more babbling

Than Babylon when the work was gone and everyone spoke a different tongue; imagine Scrabble then?

She is a keen student, the grace of ballet in the whisk of a saucier

Flying Saucer how I’m in her confinement beam, how many anal probes she sourced

From Anne Summers. She is hairless as a grey alien but it grows in coarse

And black, hairs rigid as gorse spines. What is she making it tires my mind

Tyres of my mind fast as ferried James Dean. Her lips are cherry

And her hair gold as Kerrygold, she is very

Busy right now, too busy by far being exemplary

With the whisk, she whips briskly and the sauce thickens

She only tickles the pot sides so it slides almost silently through the dishes

Her meals are always incredible, great expectations everytime I’m Dickens

She makes all kinds of different ones, mediterranean mint sauces like yoghurts

Or yellow mixtures thickness and taste of bun mixture, strange sugary ores

That shouldn’t work with pork but do, and they’re mixed with meat juices too

The grease separates from the sauce and tops it translucent, or a fondu 

If that counts as a sauce, I reckon it do

Lime-coloured lemon sauce to dollop on our fish

Thyme-topped venison rub a nice side to our dish

In my wanks she is a sleek horse with thick flanks on all fours giving titwanks to gangsters

Could be a bracing gravy sustained by stocks tasty and flooding the plate

Brought to the bubble, this maybe gravy, more bubbles than Matey

She plates out the praties, warns they’re hot as Hades 

I’m pale as a hayseed daydreamer in the shade, fire-braided hair the sun despairs

Her chest distracting as Katie’s

Her price a steep tithe

Deep as her thighs

I’m a pict, she’s a pixie why’d she pick me

God, where is my mind

She’s serving chopped chives

I’ll lick my plate clean, meat and two greens but the secret ingredient

Is sauce 

In here she’s the boss whipping up chimichurri with a demigod’s fury

Jury’s never out, serious sauce clout

Bends Uncle Ben over, his shitter roots

Roots out Levi Roots, gives him the boot

It’ll be roots bloody roots in that room

Today’s sauce is harissa, hails from North Africa, so spicy it hisses

Fission happening in the dishes, fissures in the fixtures and cracks in the dishes

Drank so much cow juice my stomach was a milkshake

Thought I was a hardcase going back for seconds, should have me sectioned

My delectations proved derelictions, I can’t have erection while I am shitting

We had it on nicely buttered chicken

Now seems shitting will never end

My butt has lost its shutter

No more shit is coming, my asshole splutters

Out goop, I shudder at my ruined hoop

I troop on until the last of it is gone

Stand and suddenly a brass band rumbling in my tum turns into an ass band

Shitting in concert, only with concerted effort do I make it back to the landing

Site, violent shiteing it’s genuinely frightening my whitening face

Shits fast as lightning, my detritus spitefully ejected, I am rapidly lightening

She knocks on the door, evidently heard my groaning

I’m moaning, zoning out on the humble office, using every scrap of bogroll she owns

She asks what I need, I can’t deny I’ve more than peed but she shouldn’t stand outside

She knows what’s going on but still let’s pretend it’s not, I hate leaving Stillorgan

She’s the best saucier in the southside, years at Roly’s, now I’m shitting out my insides

I’m making rollies from toilet paper, anything to distract my mind from the grinding

Of my intestines, it is like a time trial to spend the longest time

My piles are now barrows, the burning slime trail leaking out is longer than the Nile

Denial not just a river, debasement not just a room below the gaff, waft

Away the smell, hand goes up like luftwaffe and unlatches the window

Amount of cack could fill a sack, backs up the jacks and I’m not halfway yet

I’m grand Pet why don’t you fetch yourself a treat and turn on the TV set

I came here for the sauce, she had me over for the sex, can tell she’s vexed

I’m perplexed, my jellied legs shake like J Fox, shaking like need for crack rocks

When I hear TV sounds I know it’s safe to loose havoc’s hounds, I text her

Something sexy, tell her to keep it wet but my mind is on the possibility of wet wipes

My shit is like ignition fuel running from a shot spitfire, my asshole shoots out fire

I’d light every beacon fire into a blazing pyre between Minas Tirith and The Shire

I am shy and this’ll only serve to make me shyer, she’ll have me in her phone as shiter

I have no matches so I flick my lighter, smells like something died here

The flow has slowed if not stopped altogether, it smells like the opposite of mountain heather

Hethor’s pets have found their dwelling place, in Ireland’s rankest u-bend

I’ve ranked high on blending meals into shite

Nothing resembling it on the Bristol Stool Scale

I was the phantom shiter during the school bake scale, but nothing of this scale

Big as a whale that’d eat Jonah like a tic-tac, Richter scale my kicked-in doorback

Descaled your toilet with brown acid rain, no more trains will be run on

That ass I’ll tell you that. She texts back saying she wants me gone

Her sauce will no more grace my tongue, visit short taxi won’t be long

Text to say thanks and remind her to buy Andrex but the text bounces

She is probably having sex with some Durex model, I’m levelling Dex 

In the Great Hollow and chatting with Ornifex

Dating these days is hard you know

Not as hard as Ornstein and Smough.