Alchemisland

That many cameras and no CCTV in the tunnel, seems funny Aided and abetted by aunty, pedohive BBC The Queen’s holographic disguise glitched, revealing that her skin is green Tell her the job is done, keep her pleased I read a story about a sparks finding human limbs and torsos in her freezer And that…

Elbow grease weedy handshakes in seedy backstreets I’ve got a bag of sweets sweep you off your feet I could stand out in the street, eyes unseeing, and still beat you at Tekken Text some whores, more at eleven.

Left blood on the curb  Currant jam topping dessert Badly hurt the worse for wear  Consigned Her to the current  Earlier I felt lost for words  Knock around, searching the loch for lost girls  All they found were fabric scraps and two golden curls There were five of them, like the Golden Girls Toecurling anxiety…

Packed your stuff away, boxed up in the basement, and in their place Hung paintings, Me looking saintly Satan-praising dainty peng tings appraising me A blaze in me that has me seeking peaks Eking my way along a fateful razorblade, blood-rusted and dust-encrusted More stops and stations than Christ’s Easter perambulations, wyrd day ended crossnailed…