ten days of silence
and i was supposed
to just take it
allow faith or love
to get me through
all the while you
had the means
to contact me,
just not the desire
and when you couldn't
tell me what you did
on those ten days
i knew it was time
to run
my best instincts were
not even in the realm
of thoughts i suppose
the beauty of being fifty
and having gone through
some shit
you see when it is time
to burn a bridge and feel
confident you did the
right thing
and as i tell everyone
fuck time
live in the moment
let it all break
like an ocean
wave
loneliness is a shadow
on a cloudy day
friends in graveyards
tomorrow a broken
promise
death is often this
fearful event no one
wants to stumble
upon
think of the ones
that learn the secrets
and embrace death
as an opportunity
few preachers ever
reach beyond the
choir
priests are even worse
time to drown sorrows
and regret in rising flood
waters
who wants to survive
this world as the flames
only get hotter
loved ones
figments of the imagination
alike
blankets make shitty
pillows
ponder
the thought
that you were
supposed to die
years ago
is this borrowed
time
or just a series
of new beginnings
purple daydreams
on a misty mountain
in a land forgotten
over time
urgency was left
behind in the
clusterfuck
of today
another cup of coffee
as your feet dangle
over a lake
now, if only you were
lucky enough to share
a future with someone
other than the greedy
fuckers inside your
brain
tempting fate on
the way to hell
i believe some
people call that
boredom
another day wasted
in a waiting room
you can only listen
to fox news so many
times before you get
sucked into the cult
fall asleep in the sun
you'll be dead long
before they realize
it was cancer all
along
try laughter
better music
the drugs reserved
for the rich
nothing wrong with
being a degenerate
just choose
a better class
an old guy told
me years ago
talent goes a long
way in a world
of shit
and as this circle
jerk continues
to spin downhill
i can affirm the
world of shit part
the talent comes
and goes it seems
depends on how
swift the wind
is blowing up
someone's ass
if anything
i'm able to
make due
see tomorrow
before i close
my eyes forever
most of my friends
are now in graves
or moved to
a residence
so far off the
grid the cops
don't bother
anymore
sounds very
tempting...
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is trapped in suburbia, plotting his escape. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Synchronized Chaos, Drinkers Only, Mad Swirl, The Rye Whiskey Review and The Beatnik Cowboy. His most recent book, to live your dreams, published by Whiskey City Press, is available at Amazon by going here: https://a.co/d/0bLTqs7R
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