Holofernes lost his head in a wine induced sleep filled sex promised
stress filled week of ill judged character..
I managed to keep mine, just...
It has been a week.
As the walls around me run red with that warm arterial spray, I shall retreat
to the country.
Pheasant pie.
wine.
& blood from the air.
You write the best stories. I would buy books of them and proselytize widely. Tonight I'll raise my glass to you.
ReplyDeleteThankyou, I have a readership of one, but it is the quality that counts.
ReplyDeleteI will bind my stories in rust & dig a hole for them to fall to you.