a little jack daniels with the coffee
 
tracing the outline
of a tattoo on soft
black skin with
your tongue
 
a snowy morning
in the middle
of somewhere
 
a little jack daniels
with the coffee
 
the love of your life
sleeping in just her
panties in your
centuries old bed
 
you can't help but
feel this was never
supposed to be for
someone like you
 
the infinite joy
to have defeated
time
 
there is no substitute
for it
---------------------------------------------------------------------
let the fun begin
 
the joy of a dirty mind
is absolutely anything
could be a reminder
or the spark for the
imagination to rev
the engines and let
the fun begin
 
a rainy day
 
a car dealership
bathroom
 
a certain way the
floor sounds with
the right shoes
 
an echo from
across the street
 
the subtle way the
chap stick tastes
 
a certain song on
the radio
 
absolutely anything
 
and i won't be able
to walk for a few
minutes
----------------------------------------------------------------------
too fast for me
 
i'm at the age
now that life
either moves
too fast for me
or too fucking
slow
 
finding the right
groove is not
possible anymore
for me
 
maybe i'm the
cranky old man
or just another
child that has
grown old
 
not that it
matters
 
we are born
to die
 
few get to
experience
something
other than
that
 
or so i have
been told
--------------------------------------------------------------
a few moments to forever
 
i have never learned
how to cope with
good news
 
happiness is some
rare thought that i
haven't embraced
in years
 
and here comes a
lost soul that wants
me to give myself
to her for any
amount of time
 
a few moments
to forever
 
my soul is old
enough now to
stop fighting this
silly notion that
i'm strong enough
to go it alone
 
i am broken
enough though
 
that i still have
doubts that anyone
truly wants to devote
the time to fixing me
the way it needs to
be done
--------------------------------------------------------------------
something is always in the way
 
and you want
to love her
 
but neither of
you can find
the fucking
time
 
and the days
become years
 
and eventually
something is
always in the
way
 
before you
know it
 
what could have
been is all that
is left
 
a fleeting moment
of sweet kisses
 
and enough desire
to keep you warm
on a winter's night

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is currently trapped in suburbia, wondering where the lonely housewives are hiding. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Mad Swirl, Horror Sleaze Trash, Misfit Magazine, Terror House Magazine and The Beatnik Cowboy. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)