Contributor: Paul Tristram
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He sat there, thinking of her again
wiping someone else's blood away,
cornered in cell number 2.
In they came, team handed
8 of the fuckers, with broom handles
"You dirty bastard, fucking scum!"
He headbutted the first one
then frowned loudly to himself,
after 3 broken jaws they evaporated
into silken mists before his eyes.
And he left the cell backwards
unable to help the other man
sat in the corner
Chewing his left fist off with fear.
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Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches 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, y...
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Author:
Paul Tristram
