Alchemisland

Slit I fed a lint familiar quarter

The lit panel readied for order

With thumb tortured ordered

A cocoaless sweet treat

Turning street meat to only-suites

No lead-absorber spoiling my lit fit if I walk around, this is it

Lit up a clown over some staring down shit in 2006

Lived off that clout for most of my life now, personas fix

Click into place and before you know it you forget the face

Or choose to forego it

Either way, there is no way but on

So exclaim the much-to-say-today flames. Little Vampire, play on.

South’s southmost

The demon outpost’s air taps my like-chocolate out.

Clout a clout-chasing clown, straight knock him out

Eight count still wasn’t moving from off the ground

Just to press the point – that it was his noise – I stomped his mouth

Hound of the Baskervilles chase pace the old Bill’s footpad’s bounded.

Point and click, coigns of vantage,

Coins a-clink in a porcine Brinks.