FreeWrights Peer Review™

Oh my thighs are burning red
In the tangles of my bed
What infernal pox is this?
Should have left it at a kiss

In what brothel dark and dim
Was the whore who slept with him?
In what cleavage his eruption?
In whose mouth was his corruption?

And what shoulder, and what wrist
Did this harlot then enlist?
And when his breath was loud and short
Did he think about her wart?

What the teeth? And what the tongue?
Wish she’d made him bust a lung
Did he not, in lusty farce
Note the blisters on her arse?

When he shot his fickle load
Without a care, the cheating toad
Did he smile and think of me?
Did he know he’d got VD?

Oh my thighs are burning red
Glad I didn’t give him head
Still I’ll get revenge from this
Laughing when he tries to piss

(For anyone who doesn't recognise this, you should read Blake's "Tyger Tyger", which has nothing to do with VD but has a very nice rhythm)

I don't get it.

Shall I make it more graphic?

Is it just wishful thinking on my part, and a desire to corrupt, or is this likely to become the most popular forum here?