A small poem about grapes.

my mum bought me grapes
[05:30]
because of covid
[05:30]
and grapes is what you get sick people
[05:30]
and i'm sitting here
[05:30]
eating them in great handfuls
[05:30]
thinking
[05:31]
“They're not even charcoal seared with honey butter. They are not poached in red wine. They are not served with soft cheeses."
[05:31]
i might as well kill myself

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