Alchemisland

She says I’m mean when she’s clean, won’t see me

No seat the table, I was the steamy presence at the feast

Only the mediums present could sense me, but on gear

She’s calling for meets freak amounts, overeager

Did both sides, like eggs done over easy

She sends me pictures of her midriff and thighs to tease me

Wide-eyed she’s asking me the size while she snow dyes my Beamer keys

Linen, I’m behind bars directing sinning like Max Hardcore

Exploiting women, my temper short as a Limerick by a bard who ran out of ink

Balloon to a pinprick, I’ve had to do it: aid it down the sink with fluids

You sink or you swim, no point denting a speared horse’s flank with that stick

When you could use it to make your abusers walk the plank

Had to choose: the life of a boozy crooner or a looney with a shank

Everyday giving thanks, the altar cauled by the dankness but the eyes like an owl’s wise and thankless

The locket dangling around my fang-tattooed neck contains an image of a trickster

Frogs were singing while I sinned, they’d all been licked on instinct

I used to be beautiful, you know, I had kissable lips

Different hands hovering around my hips, carpet red as rose hips

They weren’t there when the road dipped

My skin sags with each bit of sand I let slip through my hands

Sticking bits of my face back on with Pritt Stick

I’d be a mystic were I less hedonistic

Masochistic, lashed to the slave stick

Ruby ringtop smudged in promissory kisses

Flame a spliff with ground bits, no vapours

Mashed like a slave’s bits

When he’s castrato with his singing and lyrics.