Alchemisland

Your whole life a cruel ritual of abject humiliation

Gatekeeper creeping keeping low by the train station railings

Grey skies, grey prefab buildings, sky like an illness symptom

Rooks in odd numbers make the roof their sanctuary

Sawing through the chains, Fenrir frothing seems angry

My ilk Lord Santry, baddest man between Belfast and Bantry

Milk hardened these bones but all the baitings broke the mould

Made me cold at my soul’s depths, I am death-obsessed, estes method

Getting tested in my posture correcting chair, voices tinged with despair

Blaring through my airpods, give a sceptic pause, atheists soiling drawers