consumed with death
 

they say i talk about

death too much

 

that all this doom is

not good for my soul

 

that makes me laugh

 

my life has been

consumed with

death since i was

four years old

 

imagine understanding

the concept fully before

ever going to kindergarten

 

don't get me wrong

 

i love love

 

love women, especially

the ones that love me

 

i would do anything to be

consumed by that but i am

not a lucky soul

 

i know my number will be

pulled soon enough

 

i don't have the money to live

like tomorrow doesn't exist

 

if that changes, oh boy

 

i might finally know what life

is like living by the seat of

your pants
----------------------------------------------------------------
cigarettes and cheap booze
 

fell asleep last night to

nina simone singing in

my ear

 

calling me a white devil

and making me laugh

 

under the piano in some

bar in paris

 

cigarettes and cheap

booze in the air

 

longing for the days

twenty years before

i was born

 

only for the music

though

 

i have no use for the

caveman thoughts in

humans

 

give me some chaos

of jazz and my animal

feels the only comfort

it finds possible
-------------------------------------------------------------
in early march
 

three dead after a tornado

hits indian lake in early

march

 

imagine that

 

a bunch of idiots that

don't believe in climate

change get hit by a

massive tornado, but

not in the summer

 

my empathy is getting

harder to find
--------------------------------------------------------------
across from the bathroom
 

sitting across from

the bathroom in the

waiting room here

at the hospital

 

if i was a junkie

or if i was in rehab

for being one

 

i can imagine this

could be quite the

test

 

for me, i'm just

hoping i don't

have the need

to take a shit

 

the waiting room

is getting crowded
-------------------------------------------------------------
for a rainy night
 

the old songs of leonard cohen certainly

set the mood for a rainy night

 

she had the longest legs you had ever

seen on a woman

 

fishnets, she must have read the poems

 

she would dangle her foot up against

my knee, hitting it playfully from

time to time

 

i whispered in her ear, as seductively as i could,

that if she kept this up, she was going to get

in trouble

 

right then, her husband called her name

from the kitchen

 

i laughed

 

she came back and handed me a glass of scotch,

whispered in my ear that she wasn't wearing

any panties

 

i licked my lips and took a sip, playfully placed

my hand on her thigh and started to slowly

investigate

 

she was telling the truth

 

i put that finger in my mouth and told her

she tasted like the morning dew

 

we slipped out into another room

and started to kiss

 

her husband found us right before all

the good shit started to happen

 

he asked me to leave before

he found the shotgun

 

i took the scotch with me



J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is old enough to know better. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Black Coffee Review, The Asylum Floor, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Rye Whiskey Review and The Beatnik Cowboy. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)