——————————————————–
the better option
scribbling down madness
before the pain gets to
the point where death
is the better option
there’s that fine line
i have to walk each
day
hope or reality
both feel like a shit
sandwich most days
but if the beautiful
people choose hope
i know i better go
the other way
i was never allowed
in those reindeer
games
i’m not bitter
just lonely most
nights
——————————————————–
tired of the charade
roll over in bed
and both my hips
crack
i believe in irish
folklore that means
i’m going to hell
fifty years at it now
and my hands are
starting to get tired
of the charade
and the latest love
has apparently chosen
either another love or
it was better for her
to become a ghost
just my luck
scary movies don’t
do anything for me
my friend in germany
sent me a text saying
she loves me
i joked, it gets easier
the further you get
away it seems
she laughed and said
i hope you are used
to it
————————————————
a soundtrack
she was the
kind of woman
that came with
a soundtrack
soft skin
glistening
in the sun
i look like every
social distortion
song put into
motion
opposites
supposedly
attract
hopefully one day
she will actually
realize that
time isn’t on
either of our
sides
——————————————-
put me under
the color of
the multi-vitamin
i take now that
i’m fifty is the
same color as
the dick pills
the chinese try
to sell me every
day
kerouac
once said
details are
the essence
of life
of all the things
to remember
and how i’m
applying them
to this crazy
fucking world
now, i only get
good sleep when
they put me under
for a medical
procedure
the nurses are all
stunned when i’m
wide awake twenty
minutes later and
fully lucid
perhaps next time
i’ll bribe the fucker
for some stronger
shit
———————————————-
the next generation of crazy
i see the one in the mirror
and wonder why the fuck
does he believe he deserves
to be loved
i try to convince myself
that’s my father talking
even though he has been
dead for years
perhaps it’s all the dead
relatives disappointed
in me
or just maybe
the next generation of
crazy has finally arrived
three hours of sleep
rinse and repeat
swimming upstream in
a river of cloudy shit
what fifty really means
is you are on the verge
of all the elderly shit
you never wanted to
face
and that is why crazy
is never that far away
the only heirloom
this family has
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is a three-time Best of the Net nominee and a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee. He has been widely published over the years, most recently at The Beatnik Cowboy, Yellow Mama, The Rye Whiskey Review, Night Owl Narrative and Misfit Magazine. His most recent book, to live your dreams, published by Whiskey City Press, is available at Amazon.com by going here: https://a.co/d/0eFsH7fe