another night choking down
positivity, searching for that
new leaf
all lies, as usual
the scars add character, not
a fresh personality
and while all the blood does feel
like some kind of spiritual release
joy is still one elusive bitch
and here comes the scotch
and all those terrible memories
remember the one that slashed
your tires and fucked your best
friend to show you what a real
man was
bad luck, no luck
does it ever fucking matter
some souls are simply lost
never meant to fall in love
never meant for a meaningful
moment of time
a brave suicide on a quiet saturday
never even makes the papers
ashes tossed aside
forgotten trash
the final chapter of life
how fitting…
J.J. Campbell was raised by wolves yet managed to graduate high school with honors. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Misfit Magazine, just good poems, Synchronized Chaos, The Beatnik Cowboy and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.
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