Tmro the shakes on the laying of bricks
& a smithereened mind no plus-pill will fix
but now he’s Buddha x’ed with Aleister Crowley migrating spacetime, metamorphing the settee:
blink it’s a longboat aflame on the Volga,
blink again it’s a throne for an alien Pasha!
Tmro is nothing but migraine and puking
and the lads all day mocking & sniggering,
but now he’s Big Bang’s wise older brother,
a matter-magician who fishes in mirrors
& reels in the creatures of parallel spheres,
machine elves & mothmen & three-headed seers
who divulge that this real world’s a con & a veil
& present him The Stone, Sword, Crown, & Grail…
Tmro it’s back to the grind with a smack
& the old-sin-phantoms on an all-out attack
but now he’s juggling black holes on the Green
as he whirls through the aether of N-dimethyltryptamine.
Yep, tmro it’s concrete & barrow & kango & crane
while worms of past failures tunnel his brain,
Now blue blades of lightning branch from his tips,
now new Milky Ways streaming out through his lips….
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