————————————————————————————–

tucked behind the ear

my grandmother

always used to

say trust your

gut until you

realize the gut

has shit for

brains

i always kept

that tucked

behind the

ear

today, the shit

for brains part

came shining

through

but, as with

most matters

of the heart

love will make

it through

it conquers

everything

fear, ignorance,

cynicism and

the ever present

rejection

it’s a gentle

touch

a subtle

embrace

a soft kiss

on a rainy

day

the final battle

you have no

choice but to

win

———————————————————

just another transaction

your beauty is such

that i know i am just

another transaction

and as long as the

money keeps flowing

you’ll keep smiling

keep teasing

keep up the illusion

that this is something

real

that i mean something

tangible in your life

the magic trick truly

is to keep the teasing

going when the money

stops

even the dreamer in me

knows bullshit when he

sees it

———————————————————————-

a typical day on the farm

a woman told me

once i was fucked

i pondered where

she was going

with this

she continued,

dogs are man’s

best friend and

you have nothing

but cats

this means you

are either a communist

or an unlucky fucker

i suppose i should

start my manifesto

comrade

she laughed, took

another drag off

her cigarette

turkey vultures

circling overhead

a crow lands

in the yard

i lit a cigarette

and said i guess

we are putting

the conversation

on luck now

one of the cats

ventured a little

too far into the

back field

became an appetizer

for the coyotes

———————————————————————-

a cold reality

i hear laughter

in my nightmares

neon dreams of

strange women

that never want

to fuck me

like stepping in

a cold reality that

i have wanted to

leave for years

there’s a devil

in your kiss and

i hope that i don’t

have to cut yet

another deal

crossing over

state lines

counting down

the miles

sure, something

will go wrong

your life isn’t

a fucking dream

but the journey

will be worth it

you’ve seen

the destination

the curves and

soft skin

you know plenty

of worse places

to possibly die

in

—————————————————————–

just a wrong turn

step away from

the chaos and

remember love

think of those

hushed whispers

and stolen kisses

not about all the

years it has been

since any of that

has happened

in your life

pretend this hell

is just a wrong

turn in whatever

utopia you feel

comfortable in

of course, don’t

give the secrets

away just yet

the last twinkle

of hope still exists

in that dark sky

get high enough

and you can even

touch it

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, hoping to escape one day. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, Misfit Magazine and Mad Swirl. You can find him most days betting on baseball games and taking care of his disabled mother. He has a blog, but rarely finds the time to write on it anymore. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)