——————————————————————————

up from the floor

i wanna leave

most of my

memories

in the ocean,

somewhere away

from the plastic

in tedious moments,

i bite my nails and

wonder why i didn’t

die when i was young

this woman swears

she loves me

won’t give me her

address or any hope

that this is something

more than real

we’ll probably be

married in a year

why does all the

crazy shit with death

happen in minnesota

you try helping your

disabled mother up

from the floor with

a bad back

these are the nights

drugs were invented

for

piss stained pants

in the wash

a night nurse telling

war stories in the

living room

scribbling madness

on paper is child’s

play

—————————————————-

the latest year of death

a few snowflakes

in the cold sunshine

the last few days of

the latest year of death

can masturbation cause

carpal tunnel

four out of five dentists

agree

of course, some beautiful

woman wants to save you

as long as you are willing

to become the man she

changes you into

why resist, where has this

perfect creature got you

still think toiling away

in obscurity is noble,

makes you cool or

something even better

not often someone brags

about being a better piece

of shit

sure, there may be gold

in that turd but no one

ever wants to give it

a taste

rejoice, the end is near

a new beginning if you

truly want it to be

but that is just some

mumbo jumbo out of

some self help book

written long before you

were a stain in the sheets

———————————————-

die alone

pretend we are

the only souls

left

your soft skin

resting on what

is left of me

seventeen years

is one hell of

a gap

but you brighten

this darkness

let me know

that the light

isn’t always

a train

one day it will

be your chance

to prove to the

world you were

always what i

was missing

it’s not a test

but a plea for

help

not that i’m

afraid to die

alone

just don’t

want to

that subtle difference

doesn’t mean shit to

many, but hopefully

just enough to whom

it is meant for

——————————————————–

i mumbled something

a strapless neon dress

and all the reasons i

never liked going to

strip clubs

sitting at the bar,

just drinking

the bartender asked

what i was looking

for tonight

i mumbled something

i’ll never find here

she realized it was

a lost cause

never got a lap dance

though i did buy my

buddy one

he liked this smoking

hot black chick and i

never minded someone

else having a good time

looking back on it

i still can’t figure out

how these twenty plus

years have flown by

so damn fast

the tornado hit that

strip club years ago

i suppose they had

different dancers

by then

——————————————————

nothing but sunday drivers

an uncomfortable

silence in the rain

a two lane road

in the sticks

of course, nothing

but sunday drivers

on a thursday

afternoon

it’s a lonely glass

of scotch and the

memory of an old

lover that died

years ago

your life has become

the lyrics of the songs

you grew up on

too bad the songs

about death are the

only ones you can

remember all the

lyrics to

the subtle embrace

of your last hope

she has no clue to

the misery she has

stepped into

and while that baggage

will never be hers to

deal with

she will gladly accept

the challenge

accept what little

faith is still left

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, sadly accepting his fate. He’s been widely published over the last 30 years, most recently at Night Owl Narrative, Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Crossroads Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review. His latest book, to live your dreams, has been published by Whiskey City Press and is available on Amazon.com (please buy a copy or two). He still has his blog, although taking care of his disabled mother takes up the majority of his time. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)