Alchemisland

Schooner’s big wake, no big wait

Text early enough today it’ll be on the way before the bus driver changes

For mystique, venom-gozzying drake in waxed teak at the helm of the spaceship

Francis Drake at the head facing Asia

Going through hell to get you off your melon, doses to the face

Emoting onto vellum for the fame

I’ll admit anything if asked, pillow chat traded for a roadsweeper’s wages

Sold my whole soul for a paltry life I could have lived on just the dole

Want as a habit, my parents in that regard scored badly, spoiled the batch

Everything I wanted I asked, credit to my mam and dad but now

If I don’t get my way it’s throwing shapes, sorrow drowning

Fear so bad I can’t go out after last night’s outburst.