Alchemisland

Can’t deny myself, arise to be heightened

Box full of aromatic spice, red flecks my eyes

Hour at lunchtime, hunched in a corner smoking a joint end from last night

Crunchtime, I feel pain inside which smoke wreaths to hide

Spill the grinder and I’ll smoke the rug

As many nugs as bowls of rice served up nicely in China

Once inside me I become a diviner, defy my own will and get high

Must divorce this kite high kush from my routine

Some when drunk go for poutine

My eyes two azure islands in the stream of piss

No need for eyelids because it’s never bright in Ireland

Get a fright when my wife comes in, haven’t said a word all day

Up since 8 handling hay, it’s not the season for baling

Each begging text starts friendly with a hey man

They want to know my weekend plans, how I am

Before asking can I bring a bag of my calamitous

Admix sticks to your nose lining, brick hard snot

Lips frothed like a rabid fox if you snort too much

Pushing my shit on naive teens

Consignment delivered, try my green

Every party I host is a green party

My Fianna queuing up outside for their dole on a Tuesday stroll

Ask to meet later I say OK, wait at the boardwalk

Mouth like a basking shark with burning innards when I exhale the blimmer

Bimmer black, bonnet waxed turtle, reflecting back my mugshot actor

Whacked all day but not relaxed, smoke unto coughing no point to that

Pulling out beard hair, started to busy idle hands now part of the plan

Compulsion I have, nothing ends up being grand, I want seventeen grand

Just to start, my heart needs restarting after the party

Head empty, sore, like shot myself after swore

That I didn’t have a gun, stomach pumped

The pills upcome and I’m still coming up

Grab my protesting guts, stars of the lid hidden

Shut the door behind me and shid

Mind briste, sprint through the cistin before I shit me bríste, cinnte

With my words texting your sister, she’s insistent about not missing

Our proposed dirty weekend, primary interests sport and fisting

Sitting room like a solar lodge, vampire dodging sun lodgements

I pull the curtains across, wet-eyed who cut the onions

I’m here to have fun, wonderland of this grim dungeon

Just before she pushes my head under the bedsheets

I wake up screaming in the dugouts at Crécy, to crashing shells

Crushing well the honest Tommy

Cul de sac and can’t go back, something here I need to manage

See a dog about a man but the road signs vanished, famished

This land less and more of anguish since the planned famine

Rack my brains for something less savage.