Alchemisland

Take an earphone out 

Can’t tell if I’m breathing loud

Last bong worst mistake I ever made

Glass bong with swirling smoke like a wraith

Bowl full of flaking cake, colour of hake 

I wheeled to kickstart, flamespark to sore heart

Coughing so hard I tore my sternum apart

Can’t tell if everyone is looking at me 

Because of my crippling social anxiety

Or my delusional sense of self importance; main character syndrome

Luas colour I’d call off-chrome

When we were an arm of an Empire, not Rome

We’d more tracks than a wannabe rapper’s phone, but not anymore

Ireland then was track and field Commodore 64

Yield or get racked, hell or Connacht, union enforced by cataphracts

A whole island to graze gap-toothed cattle on while wars with France

Raged on the mainland

Leac oighir my heart lately

Like Dicey Riley taking sup

I’m sliding into ice

I see icily, nothing nice for me

Lack for but never lack for landlords

I’m seething at a guy who hasn’t removed his Jansport

Bag, everytime he jostles it hits my phone

Nice the city offers free transport.