J.J. Campbell (1976  ?) is old enough to know where the bodies are buried. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Mad Swirl, The Nerve Cowboy, Terror House Press, The Rye Whiskey Review and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
with a little umbrella
 
snowflakes in the
air and the smell
of a never-ending
winter piercing
the gray skies
 
i used to love
this shit
 
the weather
perfect for a
fat guy fashion
show
 
now, arthritis
and back pain
run my life
 
i could fucking
use a sandy beach
and a drink with
a little umbrella
right about now
------------------------------------------------------
the beautiful dark souls
 
wondering where
the black angels
are
 
the beautiful dark
souls meant to take
me on a wild ride
and conquer the
world
 
that soft brown
skin still dances
in my dreams
 
kisses me gently
on a private beach
in some tropical
land
 
clues me in when
privilege rises its
ugly head
 
hopefully, i still
can be a lucky

soul
---------------------------------------------------------
a russian conspiracy against me
 
i am convinced every
woman i meet online
is part of a russian
conspiracy against
me
 
the first one that i
figure out is actually
real and not part of
that mafia
 
i'm going to surrender
to and let life finally
start to breathe
 
of course, by the time
that happens, death
will be the more likely

scenario
------------------------------------------------------------
madly in love with me
 
my former muse likes
to think that she used
to be madly in love
with me
 
anytime she would
tell me that, i always
wondered if she knew
she was talking to me
 
of course,
it's my own damn fault
for allowing a beautiful
woman to use me for
as long as i did
 
thankfully, i woke up
before the gun found

the inside of my mouth
----------------------------------------------------------------
in over forty years of life
 
a cloudy, damp
valentine's day
 
perfect
for someone
who hasn't
had someone
really love him
in over forty
years of life
 
these are the
days where
suicide is
a cliche
 
drowning
sorrows in
alcohol is
a waste of
time
 
and there
isn't a porn
out there that
adequately takes
care of all the
pain
 
i'm sure someone
else has it worse
off than me
 
that's little
consolation

anymore