Alchemisland

Ahead but I won’t quit,  Keep killing and that’s it. Quids in, ditch you in a ditch Kill then sprint until I develop a stitch. Gaping wound a stitch won’t fix  In time saves nine, you’re next in line. Leave now, heed my advice, save your life. Sun up, some down; let none survive.

Jewels I choose Big stones, Loughcrew Cock crew three times In telling my tale grew  No corpse smell Empty tomb.

His skull caved in. Split braincase. Watched his thoughts swim away, Licked his exposed brain. One big hole, like what goes into a disc tray Dick and balls cut away Body weighted with heavy chains like Fenrir kept at bay. Stray bones in a mass grave  Glaive honed for just such a day  Talk about a…

Arms fed into my mincer Crabs running off with bits of you held in their pincers How innocent I acted, would have impressed Harold Pinter. Handpalm redder than Titian’s printer; Loved ginger bints, that painter. You said it but you won’t see her later, Not even if you squint.

An insistent, imploring chorus demanding I become a defiler, From the storage room where I keep my files and tormenting knife. A spotty trail of dotwork violence, wine from a hollowed vein, Any smart squaddy could follow, from mine to the bridge; Tail it in time and, boy, I’d be in a pinch.