Alchemisland

She’d be a ten wearing a pensioner’s unmentionables

I’d be sectioned if the state knew how mental I’d gotten

Smoking gach seachtain, dark sigils christmocking

Drawn on the altar’s frontispiece, hissing at the priest

Rearranging my splayed brains, rearranging with spliffs my brains

Spotting trains, timing them, jumping underneath as passengers alight

Birdspotting on the lid of my coffin

Spitting into her mouth, my concubine.