He’s Whimpering & ‘Sounding’ Again In The Small Hours by Paul Tristram

“I’m absolutely sick of it, Guv.
You can hear the cunt
all through the night
down there on the bottom bunk.
Scratching & groaning & crying
like a lost Bambi or something.
‘Sounding’ with pens
and fuck knows what else?
3 weeks ago they shunted him
out to public hospital
with a fucking water tap
& 2 bits of wood
plugged up his jacksie.
Daft twat can still barely walk properly,
now, he’s working on his cock
and I’m not having it.
Get him out of me cell or switch me…
it’s either that
or I’m gonna lamp fuck out of him.
I’m just ‘Finishing Up’
and going home in a couple of months.
Keeping my nose clean,
my head down
& doing my bird like a Boss.
Apart from that thing on the landing
with the metal dinner tray last month
I’ve been a good lad, innit.
2 me up with Jonesy over there,
he’s got a spare cot, mun.
This is just taking the piss,
I’m a Gang Member
not a fucking nurse or a poxy babysitter!”

paul bodmin jail
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 books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1943170096 ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036 And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326415204 You can also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/

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