Alchemisland

Turn back the clocks

Unboxing my sarcophagus

Embarking on my odyssey

Hope they have my sausages in Tartary

Exposed cocks in the mockery gallery

Suddenly they are glad of me when the roman ghost raised his gladius

In toast to his owner, the lord of hosts

Marshswell Manor how they mark my post

Bopping to the rhythmic nothing

Rutting like stags until both specimens are ruined

Unfit to procreate, cannot create another human

Outside laboratory conditions

Metallic creations reinstated my long-gated gait

I am no longer stayed, less a malformed creation

I grow more human by the day

Something ancient in these new ways

I sense we have been this way before

The maze of history stores that knowledge

But no one makes it back, it goes unacknowledged

As the ravings of prophets, the latter-day saints

Tucked away on the edge of the land, in the sand, the edge of sanity

The rabbiting of priests is banned, an iron hand moulds the land

To its own plans, hurtful power plants glowing ants and strange plants

Covered in what look like miniature human hands, the gases inhaled when you pass

Even quickly assure that you will get cancer in your fifties

We’re all hooked up to dream machines, hookah full of vape flavours

Nobody is coming to save us, the state surveil us, reveal us naked

If we try betray them or forsake the endless present

We are stayed by the amazing hate, the method’s revelation

They took down nations, the sprayed Kennedy’s brain from the pavement

Three gnolls by a grassy knoll, Hiram Abiff three unworthy apprentices bashed to death

In an alley for not betraying his craft’s password, anyone who grasses is a bastard

The verbs get more lurid, the terms less curative, the curation of impurity

The adjourning of eternity, the triumph of tourney, bread and circus luring

Us to servitude, a second Tudor age, the church betrayed us with rape

The king is near to the grave, the rest of them are like mental patients

Unfit to wash dishes let alone sit for regal pictures, asset strip them

Whip them full of gashes until they cough up the taxes and admit they’re fascists

Miss them when the machines come after

The last of laughter, the motherboard our master

Looked like a spider mastermind, Doom on nightmare

My mind is somewhere else tonight she says, noiselessly crying

He sits by her side smiling widely, cheshire, toothy either side

Hooked up to the whirring device, serving him pervert lies

Forbidden delights to light up his lifeless life, cums in his pants

Wipes his treasure trail with a snotrag, everything in bags

Unsorted, sagging under the weight of too much patience

Too much acceptance of betrayal, too much let away

Too much to ever consider, he never lets nerves linger

Turns the dial up with his finger, feels that spine tingle

Familiar, almost familial, who cares that the world stopped spinning

Who needs children when you can get pilled up and chill out to pulsing dub

In a confusing Lynchian nightclub, dwarves rubbing lotion onto abortions

Whores cavorting with lords, peasants debasing horned odalisques

Obelisks raised to Apollo in our midst, hidden in the masonic mist

Much is missed, thirty six three minus try divide us for Osiris

Everything stated staged to hurt, unnerve and confuse

Inhuman geometry, the vomitings from the moon