My debased art has no place in the academy
That loud rejection followed me like a shadow
One plant they ensured deadheaded before it gathered steam
They were, to say it mildly, unkeen
On my tear-painted snapshots of a Goddess’ rape
By blur-draped wraiths
Our fate I hate to say
Is a thousand year reign of draining, grey rain
The whipcracker God’s gone missing
The World, as written by Martin Amis
Rome’s full of goths, the end of all history
The statues of the Gods are cracked and piss-covered
Waiting to be rubbled, or buried then rediscovered.
Alchemisland 
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