J.J. Campbell

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) was raised by wolves yet managed to graduate high school with honors. He’s been widely published over the last quarter century, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, Heroin Love Songs v2.0, Synchronized Chaos, The Scum Gentry and Cajun Mutt Press. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com). and if you ever desire to hear him read a few of his poems, feel free to check out his SoundCloud page: (https://soundcloud.com/j-j-campbell).
Join the madness

stimulated

languid souls
wasting away
in this pit of fear

i never wanted to
know how the other
side lived

it never interested me

i was always stimulated
by deep thought,

neon colors,

an ass that made you
question all your
previous decisions,

the taste of sunshine
between the legs
of a goddess
———————————————————————-
the sun rise through a bottle of scotch

it’s a test of strength, of mind over
matter, how much pain can one soul
gather and hold until the boat takes
on some water

her love leaves as easily as it walked
in the bedroom

another broken heart that will never heal

never get to find anything resembling
whatever the same used to be

somewhere in that darkness, let the tears
roll down your face and rest on the floor

another breaking point conquered as soon
as the pen hits the paper and you see the
sun rise through a bottle of scotch

look in the mirror and understand you have
the will to die on your own terms
————————————————————————
an unsuspecting infant

the facts are not welcome here

innocence was lost the moment
a lit match met a bent spoon

love is a random bullet shot from
a moving car through the bedroom
walls of an unsuspecting infant
unaware of his new reality

hope is a middle finger from the driver
that just cut you off on the freeway

there aren’t enough bottles of alcohol
for the pain and the rich have kept all
the good shit for themselves

war is always on the tip of every
small-minded tongue

there is no room for failure or loss

our bellies only have a taste for victory,
freedom and whatever other lies we were
told in the prisons we took our books to
each day of our youth
————————————————————————

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