Alchemisland

Disgracing himself realm’s filth the lord of grapes come see what his followers sewn

Examines what they have grown, appears to grow sad but says nothing

Grape-hung gown hanging down like a wrinkleless mortuary drape obfuscating an obscened face

Light beam injecting lethargic air with sentience 

Highlighting movement, corners highted irrelevant

Trineing cloud lightning intellect lucent Lucifer amazing

Thick dust like hair on a belljar’s round

Hems spun, grass growing from grounds

Suit of fruit worn boreal lord, formed of rotten foulness forest floor mulch

Foetid brow girdled by holly crown, brow befoliate above leafen gown

Ample death-trapping apples abound my orchards

Pollard harts sporting stumped smashed antlers, run from rutting now 

April showers, sogging lichen

Darting forth from forest’s dark heart at oddest hour betwixt canine lycan

Arboreal fortress horde of orpiment-ored orbs

Amaranthian ladies, cerise madames, escapading branches snaking directionally Satan’s antipode 

Turgid tumescent readied weapon sexual organs  

Iterations of myself you have slain lay in shallow graves across a salient 

Hints of labyrinth’s center printed on its walls as I went deeper, at length coming nearer charnel midden whose scent sickens

I travel days treading trail red thread lainalong, tunneling to thicker darknesses

Meeting at Taurine maze’s center earlier versions of myself sentenced to Cretan death