Gulliver’s back hurts from exertion
From bowing, from crownweight, and from worry
Checking it twice like Santa
Crossing Ts and dotting Is
Crossing seas robed in ice
Tossing turning seizing nighttime comes alive
My ship capsizes
My broken head grows several cap sizes
Occult books wind-cracked flip to the right page
Tophets cooking kids at sulking age
Babalon workings, demon fucking
Gold if you’re lucky
Bolder after Bucky
Black hoods and slash hooks
Mud daubed, hidden nooks
Obscene rituals off the books.
Alchemisland 
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