Alchemisland

Romantic be a reach, not quite stroll along the beach

Under a peach sky, but I reach over and make sure to catch your eye

Sapphire but wearing the sun’s fire, all my desires in catalogue

Retired chief justice how I take a long walk that eve

Eager to be out and about, weaving between backstreets

Like backstreet was back and I was that street’s captain

I never walk easy, never lacking, afraid to get my wig peeled back

Rarely in Ireland is someone clapped like that, doubly so in Kilmacud

But I like feeling something I could grab easily dealing with enemies

Better not displease me or you’ll get displaced into the aethyr

I don’t care that she’s here, she’ll neaten my shirt after I cleave you dead in the dirt.

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Evil kush dipped in kief carried off on the breeze

Primrose scented evening, just us and neither planned it that way

That kinda day, alter course and see where it takes

Pages and pages and pages, think I have what it takes

Break it like I paid for it anyway, naked like TV show reality 2024 normality

What passes for entertainment these days would make a medieval maven

Shrivel up like a bus under Godzilla’s foot, double decker spa day

We open up like had keys to each other

I can feel heat between like in an oven

I feel so strongly my mind is muddled, you must be operating undercover

Part of some coven, this love starstruck, it can’t be other

I’ve never had anything I liked, why should it start suddenly

Never imagined happiness came through another, I suppose it doesn’t

But walking with someone is better than walking alone, a quiet Sunday

I never broach the subject, no perfect time, suddenly a decade goes by

You’re crying, saying you can’t remember the last time I lay with you

I know you aren’t lying but it wounds my pride, I leave a sulking lion

I’ll forget it but that’s the end of that story, it’s silence we thrive on

You have to really want to ignore it, you can’t force it

We can’t get divorced, pretend it’s tudor times, hampton court, papal order

Let’s just get stoned and hope it gets better

Wearing my no the fuck it won’t sweater

Distance between us more than if my legs were fully spread

Longer than a mag that’s extended, married that’s mad we only do head

You eat my ass and that’s to your credit, but we need someone on the next level

I’m not trying to be a critic, but in the bedposts its crickets, I cum quickly

I need something with some thickness, riding me like it printed tickets

Type who’ll send me pretty pictures, spread the pussy in frilly knickers

I can say anything in my poems but I cannot tell you what goes on inside my dome.