tell the truth
drink enough whiskey
and those bleary eyes
will tell the truth
you always wanted
to grow up and be
coltrane but were
never man enough
for the needle
get lost in the rhythm
of the long lost suicidal
dance of cursed lovers
the mirror tells you
all you need to know
alone is your destiny
you know it, just don’t
want to believe it
tough shit boy
genes at the bottom
of the pool don’t get
to be great
you get to clean toilets
pick the vegetables
or bury the dead
don’t worry, you’ll
never have the money
for anything you will
want
————————————————–
mischief
i lurk in the shadows
peek out the front
window to see what
mischief is happening
across the street
youth really is wasted
on the young
another bottle of vodka
for the floor
these are the nights
where you dream
about a bathtub
full of blood
depravity never hit
like this in your 20’s
start taking care of
the dying and watch
all your friends fall
out of love and get
divorced and you’ll
quickly understand
the underside of
a coin
if someone dares
to marry me
they will stumble
upon these poems
and realize anyone
can make a fucking
mistake
———————————————————
dana
you are the first one
in years to make me
feel like there is a
reason to wade
through all this
shit for yet another
day
i count the days
until we can finally
meet
fall in love again
do everything we
wanted for the first
time
set the world on fire
and go live our truth
of course,
being the old man
i don’t have as long
to live as you surely
hope
the beauty of the
urgency of now
—————————————————–
linger
sometimes the pages
will bleed
pain so visceral
that the stains
linger until they
envelop your
soul
religion left you
naked and alone
yet you still had
to pull yourself
up with no
bootstraps
te amo
we were destined
for failure
but never shied
away from giving
a middle finger
to the world
burn the bridges
never look back
nostalgia is only
there to hold you
in place
dare to be
uncomfortable
and embrace
the pain
——————————————————–
the digital void
faceless lovers in
the digital void
my love rests
in these arms
for the final
time
must reboot to
see all the good
stuff
who wants ice
cream
who wants to
see a dead body
let’s go dancing
with a train
i once slept in
a graveyard
hoping to hear
the dead
i believe they
have an app
for that now
insulated and
safe from pain
i guess life has
fucking passed
me by
it was bound
to happen
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is currently trapped in suburbia, plotting his escape. He has been widely published over the years, most recently at The Rye Whiskey Review, Disturb the Universe Magazine, Misfit Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy and Yellow Mama. His new book, to live your dreams, might be unleashed upon the world soon. You can find him most days betting on soccer and baseball. He still has a blog, but rarely has the time to write anything in it. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)