these are the nights we string
along our fantasies
like reality is some monster
we have defeated
conquering heroes and a parade
and the muse will come along
and slap you back into this hell
more friends in the cemetery
than are willing to even send
a birthday card
hidden, lost
rambling to yourself after
another glass of scotch
remember when we were going
to be stars
so fucking talented the world
would spin off its axis and it
would all change
laughter
you remember what cocaine
always did to you
scarface was your story
in reality, you were just
a fuck with a bloody nose
begging for another chance
to chase the dream
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) was raised by wolves yet managed to graduate high school with honors. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Synchronized Chaos, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Asylum Floor, The Beatnik Cowboy and Misfit Magazine. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.
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