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a blistered fucking ego
soft
brown skin slipping
through
my hands yet again
piss
poor timing and all
the
other excuses
i
look in the mirror and
know
i am to blame
was
it fear, anger, a blistered
fucking
ego or were you simply
blind
to an amazing woman
that
wanted to love you
and
here you are
too
old, too late, too far gone
to
ever even get a chance
you
remember the picture
of
the muse sitting on a rock
thousands
of feet in the air
how
you always wanted
to
be the one there with her
circumstance
and piss poor
luck
have ruined more than
just
your life
she'll
always be a friend
the
one that got away
the
one that still knows how
to
raise the hair on the back
of
your neck
maybe
she will find you
on
your death bed,
pen
in hand
still
writing about the most
beautiful woman in the world
the lust for gun violence
i never quite got the
lust for gun violence
either in real life or
even the video games
when we played
cowboys and indians
i was neither
more likely a rancher
that just wanted to be
left alone
and sure, i get why
people loved the
mobsters of the
early twentieth
century
the fresh suits, all
the liquor, plenty
of women, and
the biggest guns
longevity was never
part of the deal
i would rather like
to enjoy life instead
of constantly watching
my back
ruin me
the most beautiful woman
in the world laughs at the
porn i watch
tells me she would ruin me
if we ever got together
like i haven't been asking
for that for most of my life
but the truth hangs in the air
i am not someone's knight
in shining armour
the handsome devil they feel
lucky to still be available
i'm the last fuck at the bar
where the desperate say
ah, fuck it
say hello to god
sadness
the single tear
racing down
the cheek
there are no
words, just
silence
plenty of
contemplation
like an old movie
playing out in
front of you
you see her reach
for the gun and
take the safety
off
before reason
can enter the
room
she places it
against her temple
and says hello
to god
i guess she thought
i would be too young
to remember
and here we are
all these years later
i pour a little out for
what could have been
fishnets and a long cigarette
an old woman
catches my eye
fishnets and a
long cigarette
suddenly, i'm
the cool gangster
in a black and
white movie
and here comes
the dame trying
to ease my mind
we go to her room
and of course, it
was a set up
my rivals fill me
up with bullets
and i can still
hear her laughter
but man, those
legs
i can still imagine
those wrapped
around my head
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is old enough to know better. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Synchronized Chaos, Horror Sleaze Trash, Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review and Carcinogenic Poetry. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
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