-----------------------------------------------------------------------
no one ever promised
 
endless days
of rain and
fog
 
just pure
fucking misery
as my arthritis
is jumping
for joy
 
and the days of
drinking the pain
away have got to
the point where
dylan thomas
looks over at
me and smiles
 
no one ever
promised life
would be fun
and fulfilling
 
hell, i wasn't
even promised
a tomorrow
 
these are the
days where i
wish my father
had the courage
to follow through
on his threats
------------------------------------------------------------
in a dying town
 
an old buddy of mine
opened up a coffee
shop in the town
we grew up in
 
i wish him all the
luck in the world
 
a small business
in a dying town is
usually a recipe for
the onset of a mid-life
crisis
 
of course, he served
in the navy
 
so, it's probably not
the first crisis he has
come across
------------------------------------------------------------
a smile to your face
 
i still remember that
perkins parking lot
and how you couldn't
believe how easily
i slid my hand down
your pants and brought
a smile to your face
 
you're still the only
woman to ever answer
her door in lingerie
for me
 
i'm sure your wife
is enjoying that now
 
thankfully, i haven't
drank all the memories
away
-------------------------------------------------------------
down the roads of apathy
 
near the end of summer
 
another hot, long, sweaty
ride down the roads of
apathy here in the midwest
 
the road to nowhere has
been washed in the blood
of countless suicides and
the old souls realizing all
their mistakes
 
the kkk still like to recruit
here, but often knock on
all the wrong doors
 
i saw a black man walking
with his daughter in the
neighborhood yesterday
 
first time i have smiled
 
in months
-----------------------------------------------------------
this holiday weekend
 
a local radio
station is doing
an 80's marathon
this holiday
weekend
 
just what i
want to do
 
relive my fucking
childhood with all
these songs choking
on nostalgia
 
i figure i'll throw on
some beethoven
 
pour a glass of scotch
 
and think of a few
creative ways to die

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) was raised by wolves yet managed to graduate high school with honors. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, The Rye Whiskey Review, Terror House Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy and Pyrokinection. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)