Alchemisland

Finally served notice, mustard cutter

Now it’s just road and dust, another

Town, mutters behind locked shutters

Shuddering in the floodlight rings

The destitute writhing in rag piles despite abundance

Throat tight like someone fixed the rope, face white

I must do what’s right for me, even if it spites another

See some other person if you want mothering

Vision a long time cloud-muddled

A puzzle of pent-up suffering oozing out in puddles

Struggling but not running through the jungle

Talking but nobody is listening, drunk uncle

Tried to give a sweet wedding speech and fudged it

Fucked it, fuck it why not have another one

Smothering truth outflutters my smoke-painted tooth pit

I am skinnier than a toothpick, more willies out than skin flick

Picking at my skin until my limbs are akin to a whipped back

Seats back as if it makes the whip go faster

Driving a Lexus like I’m piloting a luge

Take two cubes of something crazy before the deluge

Delusions and illusions and ways to pollute reality I indulge

I close the curtains on an o’er effulgent sun

The rank, brackish underground dungeons

Drowned prisons, truncheoned back inside

The pride of flooded London.