POETRY: COGNAC, CUNT AND COCAINE BY PAUL TRISTRAM

She had those words tattooed
upon her right arse cheek,
it made me stop dead in my tracks.
“It’s a line from Aleister Crowley’s
Leah Sublime poem.”
“Yes, I’m aware of its origin.”
I climbed backwards off the bed,
my perfect hard-on disappearing
as quickly as an ignored ghost.
“It’s supposed to be horny…
why are you putting reading glasses on?”
“It’s got me all contemplative,
I’m going into the library for an hour or two.
You can finish by yourself, think nice things.”
“Are you seriously dumping my pussy for a book?
Well, fuck you pal, that’s the last time
I try fucking a Writer, you’re abnormal.
You’re supposed to let the little head
outthink the big head, not the other way around!”

Written by Paul Tristram

Barstool

Available to buy via Lulu

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