Under the scorching heat of the sun, fatally
ill lepers crush the grapes with their bleeding
stumps to pruduce this immensely alcoholic
wine, their scabs falling off to deepen its intense
colour. Its nose is fucking exquisite, redolent
of soiled tampons and blackberries.
An ideal precursor to your last shag.
Author notes
It was hard work sticking to 50 words.
A contest entry
- do your worst by just mercedes.
400 points, ended October 7, 6 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Yum Yum
Comments
-
I'll take 2 bottles, do you suggest room temperature or chilled.
Brilliant.
-
-
Armpit temperature.
-
Adding your comment:
