Alchemisland

At art. In an end of yard pervert’s wristblurring fervour, The parlour’s palatable urges never seemed further before. My mortar-guarded softness is girdered, furtive and cautious Twenty gruelling stairwells up have I stuck An unsubtle sign. In bold print, font size 25: Only twenty storeys more until you’re a fifth the way to the topmost…

Got more shouting powder than Jon Jones’s club trousers Cut with something for contesting flu City’s congested, took a different route Skipped the queue like I’m guested Licked the cube ’round its edges Ground up bazooka like a legend Gozzy green like a Goblin’s peen my weed One in need skimmed a fiver so I…

A worrying red star glued to the sky I met the convict on the mire Together, we passed time skimming a handful of Irish Bibles Across a Tiber tired of tribunes, tithes, troopers, Trojans, and triremes. The wished-dry swimming pool of my veins at capacity on a Friday My timered life a poorly poured fried…

An hundred lumps from an hundred bumps Clearly as those lumps signal mumps I am her most astute student In duvet-chewing dreams, I am lost in melee My rune-scoured sword ichor frosted. In heaps the slain lay Howling wolves descended before their gore soured, their claim. The horse hour, the year of the glaive; Tomorrow’s…