Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Author J.J. Campbell, white man with a big beard and tee shirt in his bedroom with many music posters.
Author J.J. Campbell
how much money
a few women in the last
couple of days have told
me i don't look my age
i laugh, tell them thanks
and then ask how much
money are they looking
i certainly love how
honesty throws them
off and when i'm not
interested in seeing
them naked for just
a few dollars
they quietly go away
apparently, this sucker
has grown up
lose yourself
the receptionist reminds
me of this girl i used to
flirt with back in high
amazing smile, dark
eyes, smooth brown
skin with an ass you
could lose yourself
in for hours
in high school, it only
got to the stage of
i see the rock on the
receptionist and know,
this won't even get
that far
some kind of music
i don't trust a waiting
room that isn't playing
some kind of music
it's obvious,
this office wants the
patients to have nothing
but impending doom
on their minds
and the moment i decide
i wonder when
the relief of
death will
knock on
my door
i'm patiently
waiting as
best as i can
i figure, my life
will change, i'll
be active in the
world and the
moment i decide
life is a beautiful
i'll hear a knock
and realize i never
was smarter than
when i was eight
years old
your profile photo
these younger
women these
days make me
like i'm supposed
to believe you really
are the adult film star
in your profile photo
and when i catch
them in the lie it
gets even better
and sure, they all
think i'm handsome
and all have been
abused one way
or another
it never dawns on
them the amount
of abuse i have
you can't bullshit
a survivor

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, plotting his escape. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Misfit Magazine, just good poems, The Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash and The Black Shamrock. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)