To a moth I’m like a lamp two million watt
Luridly luring them to my lantern’s unearned purity.
Smoke and flame
Must be Durin’s bane. Picture this:
In the park’s darkest parts
Selling barbiturates and bark, in bits.
Glamour glitz, blunt hits as verse gristle, Audemars wristed
All the visiting outfizzling stars out and about, whispering Risk it
They hit me up when they’re twisted, medicine minus blister
Packs. Transacts without thanks.
Extend tonight because the rest’s history.
Alchemisland 
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