from miles away here come the dog days of summer days of sunshine and the occasional thunderstorm or tornado i miss the days on the farm where you could see something rolling in from miles away enough time for the cats to run and panic the birds to get that last bit out of the feeders enough time for me to grab a stiff drink and settle down on the front porch for the show ---------------------------------------------------------------- yet another tragedy another day another school shooting yet another tragedy we have grown numb to everyone knows how this plays out calls for gun reform and the money goes to make sure it never happens doesn't matter the school or the race of the victims, etc. we are slaves to whatever the rich can get away with no matter how much we believe we can or will change things --------------------------------------------------------------------------- more useful advice had the joy of sharing a bottle of liquor with a homeless man back in my early twenties he gave me more useful advice than my fucking father ever did i remember that conversation behind the old arby's like it was yesterday easily worth the price of a bottle of jack daniels and two packs of cigarettes never had to think twice about old hookers or ever being worried about any dark alleys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ a bunch of old people the haze from the wild fires is back for round two living around a bunch of old people i'm waiting for them to start dropping like flies if it doesn't rain or clear out soon not exactly the kind of entertainment i'm hoping for looking out my front window ---------------------------------------------------------------------- racing down your bad back three in the morning hot water racing down your bad back nothing legal touches the pain anymore there aren't many options left, at least in this state so far you doubt there is a THC level that eases this you're not sure how many organs you would need to sell for a morphine drip and no one is just casually giving when it comes to heroin or cocaine for relieving the pain and there are the moments where it gets bleak you still have no clue what keeps you going
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 Horror Sleaze Trash, The Beatnik Cowboy, Disturb the Universe Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and The Rye Whiskey Review. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
I love you man!
thank you my friend