Alchemisland

Her curves in the dark merged with the backlighting pyre

Days of backbiting, screaming bloody murder

Ended up packed on the curb waiting for a cab

Or a hearse, convinced her to stay on the basis

That it gets worse before it gets better, improvements daily

Trying to keep it real, be as pragmatic as can be but

I couldn’t see it, like the Predator in the trees, even dreaming

All this, all that, predicated on belief

Now I’m not one of these new age priests

Saying you can manifest your beliefs easily

But it’s part of it, seemingly

When you want it but can forget it, more often you get it

Than what you thirst after, obsession always leads to disaster;

First the hearse and the hurt-heart procession after.