Content Warning : Do you want to continue?
This poem contains content which some readers may find disturbing.
It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.

I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.

Image for the poem A Feral Sauvignon

A Feral Sauvignon

In poetic fornication, Gildersleeve of my mind.
From the quill of my soul, foreskin dipping dead.
Sipping a feral Sauvignon, excommunicated,
From life a darker shade of red, not a rose.
Coursing through veins as the sum of the red drips,
From a thorn escaping the pretty gardens and butterflies.
The butterflies turn to stone and the sun is only a memory
Painted on a canvas, a host of my immortal ghost
Kayaking over cataracts beyond the Rosary beads
And the Fata Morgana  
Written by PaleSkies
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 1
comments 3 reads 139
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 3:32pm by Abracadabra
Today 3:31pm by Abracadabra
Today 2:56pm by Ahavati
Today 9:33am by Grace