Alchemisland

Thin ice this end of the rink, get out blue skins and something stinky

Kaczynski how predictions of the world’s possible future convinced me

Living out in the trees, outside of Eden in my own Eden more pleasing

Every sound I hear is an heathen or policeman, my cell would have no keys

I’m not low key, I’m Loki, whoever comes for me is not leaving in one piece

Traps on the property, pit traps with spiked bottoms, trip mines and hidden grottoes

No living man save myself knows, where I drag you groaning to debone you

Feed your flesh to crows to succour knowledgegiving Odin

My perimeter where I plant parsley and persimmon, potato, broccoli and dock leaf

I also planted sprockets of high explosive rocketry, deployed turrets spent my profits

Gearing up for harder times per my Pentecostal church’s prophet Ezekiel Moffatt.