Shit Her Leotard by Paul Tristram

Well, I suppose if you’re going to throw good money away
on a poxy gym membership
and spend all those precious hours,
you could be using far more constructively somewhere else,
fussing & farting about
with weights, running machines & fuck knows what else…
you’ll end up looking like that piece of shit, won’t you?
Anyone could do it, see…
waste of fucking time if you ask me…
my husband likes a bit more ‘Cushion for the Pushing’.
Imagine walking around South Wales that colour?
she’ll get fucking skin cancer off them sodding sunbeds
if she ain’t careful and serves her right and all.
That hair colour of hers is about as real as my fucking teeth
and I’ve heard she waxes her minge & arsehole… dirty slag!
She walks about the place like a fucking Barbie Doll…
mind you, I remember when she shit her leotard in school,
now there’s a lovely image for ya all to contemplate.
Aye, it was a different kind of time & attention
all the boys were giving her back then…
she was having the whole shebang…
the ‘Sticks & Stones’ & the ‘Words That Never Hurt Me’ crap.

Paul Bars
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) ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at You can also read his poems and stories here!

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