Alchemisland

Each of us has ten packs

Tucked in black socks

Or shoved up asses

No phonecalls, no black box recorder

Use the code or you won’t get old

Raptor style: one catches your eye, two attach from the side; you won’t even know

Three types of hard blow

Number one: you’re going on and on dishonestly so I rock your jaw

Number two: picked your moth up in the swan centre, taking swabs with her jaw

Number three: hardgoing boys railing lines up noses to loud noise

What I cough up red as a lover’s rose

We’re doing laps of North Circular Road

Waiting on a text with a gaff number

Like her gaff lacks lumber, she texts asking have I wood

Have I fuck, love

Asks me am I coming out, and do I wanna use her as a glove

Sure I do; I want her to watermark on my wrist where my glow in the dark Seiko goes

But tonight I’m with the bros

Some days are meant for seafronts and speedboats

Eat lobster like I cleaned out the casino

Birds from Marino, easy but teasy

Egg preference in the bedroom, how she goes over easy

My pole goes greasy 

Big arsecheeks like a freckled moon

Black bikini squeezed between them

She pulls the string and frees them, bare-breasted and queenly

One without sea legs is queasy, sits at the back like a paranoiac on the Titanic

I’ll stay by the lifeboats because I feel like something bad is bound to happen

I’m ploughing each of them on the road to happiness

Leaving streaks, red Ulster hands on every pale, peachy Irish cheek 

Demands lewdly that I cum on her face

Squeeze the tip, like I was freeing the last dregs of toothpaste from the tube