Alchemisland

Tropic of Cancer, tropic of Capricorn The horn she gives me, it’s like all the world’s porn Is playing at once, I can barely keep the cum in my horn; hornucopia Shagging all morning; if I was born today, I’d gladly die this evening at 8 After that role in the hay, I’m beyond sated…

Speedrunning what I want Fleas jumping somersaults Can’t recollect, dim recall All I can picture is a dimly lit hallway Wasted doing k bumps in the K Club doorway Opening band some dour death doom up from Galway Seen it all, bored of it all, mate Floral-clad, slim-waisted coketasters on the one-way to whoredom They…

Prime like real estate I don’t drink Prime, loathing both maker and taste Necking pink champagne to grimy 808s Her hand marked the neck, pale towers, painted nails Long neck, on the road to mavehood Head housing ravens Her spent maidenhood made a goodman’s cap.

Everytime I try to listen the chatter’s so inane I become rapidly inflamed Call me and you can grab it Collection from the establishment or handled by AnPost grannies Pies going quicker than hawk-pursued rabbits  Looking Silken Thomas slick and you can’t drab it Stick from the ugly tree whose every branch you hit before…