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a sad end to a beautiful existence
listen to your mother
cry herself to sleep
as you jerk off to
some russian beauty
with tits that size
all you can think
of is the back pain
she must have all
the time
this is what happens
when the drugs stop
working but you haven’t
met your deductible yet
you have no choice
but to self-medicate
the strong stuff works best
these bottles are older
than even your old ass
some think of death
as this sad end to a
beautiful existence
death is actually the
natural ending of a
wasted time spent
pursuing everything
but what you needed
ashes left on a shelf
forgotten yet again
grunts of madness
our greatest weakness as this disease
is our inability to communicate
like we are supposed to
but the words go missing
at all the wrong times
replaced with sounds of fury
or grunts of madness
some see a flower
others see the bee saving the world
i once had a dream i danced with
a beautiful woman as the world
burned for years upon years
out of sync with the universe
the ghost of burroughs starts to
play with the bent spoons
this isn’t the kind of night
you decide it is the right time
to have the first taste of heroin
your lover used to walk the street
scrape her knees in the alley
behind the old record store
i used to buy prince albums there
but love is love
a broken soul lost once again
but the stories will live on
as will the herpes
five tokes for whatever at this point
the beautiful people are having babies
while the rest of us know we are
fucking doomed
one toke for the pain
two tokes for the apathy
three tokes for the end of it all
four tokes for the third eye
five tokes for whatever at this point
you hear laughter coming from down the hall
those voices have been dead for over twenty years
and it’s the way the spanish princess tells you
she loves you so quietly you have no choice
but to give her your undivided attention
there are days all the miles between seem like
a walk around the block
yet the ocean is on fire and the heart of a nation
is broken in two
find happiness in pain
it becomes easier the older you get
a hot shower right before bed
leave a window open and hope your sexy
neighbor feels adventurous
she leaves the light on in her bedroom
one day you’ll stumble upon her naked
and hope her husband isn’t home
you remember when demons
were just high school mascots
when your dreams were about women
you actually had a chance with
the circle is nearly complete
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.