Alchemisland

Still darkness upon the deep.

Day decoding Ancient disturbed midway through creation

Who never picked it up again. God takes ADHD medication.

Barking toward a sparking Heroin Moon’s faraway steepness.

Over the good work of every infanticider

The spectre of sprog-spiting Herod looms.

Learning and not for the first time that I can’t handle cider,

One planted foot’ll stymie a spinning room’s flight – tip from an insider.

Lack guts, struggle always opening up;

Blood gush, searching mud of me hoping to find

The entrance sign. Fine doorway, well designed, with handle inside.

“I couldn’t hold a candle to these guys.”

Cyclically, creation’s finest prizes cannot be pried

From my tied tongues and tumescent pride;

I think back to ancient time to feel inspired,

Countenances selfsame, timepiece QA’d.

Emerging pristine, as made, from the screeing waste of history,

From which only the least illuminating curios emerge, partly-scathed.