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as bad as it feels anymore
i come from a family
where if you can fart
and sneeze at the same
time you are considered
talented
sadly, those awkward
feelings from my youth
never went away
i don’t think a woman
ever wanted to make
me a man
pity sex isn’t as bad
as it feels anymore
sometimes i look out
my window and smile
at the chaos
my mother warned me
that listening to that
music was going to
make me a sociopath
i agree, i used to tell her
anytime i put beethoven
on i feel like destroying
the world
my fellow man doesn’t
exist on the left or right
of this society
we’re busy watching
our decay push up
daisies from what
used to be
endless scars from life
a listless sunday morning
the taste of depression
fresh on my lips
i figure i have lived more
than half of my life now
no woman
no kids
endless scars from life
a gypsy once told me
i should burn everything
that reminds me of my
youth and just move
the fuck on
i asked her what to do
when you can’t afford
matches or gasoline
she laughed and
told me to fuck
off
once again
i wonder when this
country was ever great
i’m sure there is a
communist inside me
given the amount of
vodka i have consumed
in my life
i often wonder what i
could do if i could
actually sleep more
than four hours a night
flowers that never bloom
i don’t believe
in luck, good
or bad
it’s only life
and then you
die
become fertilizer
for flowers that
never bloom
a tree that gets
blown over in
a storm
dissolved in an
ocean full of the
rest of trash called
life
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is stuck in the suburbs, plotting his escape. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Synchronized Chaos, Horror Sleaze Trash, Cajun Mutt Press, The Beatnik Cowboy, and Jellyfish Whispers. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, Evil Delights.