Contributor: Paul Tristram

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She thinks she’s destroyed me
but there’s cocaine on the mirror.
Bags of skunk and pollen
the fridge is full of beer.

She really has it wrong
for I am doing just fine.
I have a lend of barmaids
my drunken evenings shine.

There’s punk rock on the stereo,
new poems upon my floor.
Commitment’s out the window,
promiscuous as a whore.

I’m out every single night
partying away her shame.
She really tried her hardest
she threw me all the blame.

All the shit left with her
I am now completely free.
I’m fucking great and fantastic
the future belongs to me.


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Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet. Buy his book ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036