behind a purple mountain
chase the thunder
the dying light fading
behind a purple mountain
seek out a woman that
will give you mercy
and better credit
put two tabs under your
tongue if you’d like to
see the sun bleed into
a warm field of clover
and beautiful corpses
of fallen gods
the old lion eventually
has to give ground or
it will end up on some
rich guy’s wall
a woman once told me
i was a beautiful man
i gave her a twenty and
told her to get her eyes
checked
instead she bought some
weed and a happy meal
if i was smart, i would
have married that one
instead
i’m busy chasing shadows
while waiting for snow
on the first day of spring
had it coming for years
sometimes the shadows catch
up with you and beat the shit
out of you
you can tell yourself that you
deserved it
that you had it coming for years
but that doesn’t smooth over
the scars
the deep haunting pain within
that never ceases to exist
sometimes it’s a noose
sometimes it’s a gun, a bottle
of booze and a note written
in blood
you know, because that looks
like you really mean this shit
when all of us ever wanted
was someone to say hello,
how can i help you
instead we are supposed
to pull ourselves up by the
bootstraps when we don’t
even own fucking shoes
my shadow beat me bloody
today
we shared a bottle of vodka
afterwards and we have come
to an understanding of sorts
it’s more complicated
than it appears
you think love is something genuine
she likes to lick
your scars with
the same tongue
she uses on other
men
you hate yourself
just enough that
you think love is
something genuine
get lost in the neon
of two-dollar drink
night at the latest
club that will be
closing soon
desperation is in
the air and you’re
fucking oblivious
to all the pain you
leave in your wake
i once had a woman
blow me a kiss before
i watched her load a
shotgun and decide
if she was going to
shoot me or herself
i wake up each
morning not
feeling as lucky
as you think i
should
when to look death in the eye and laugh
it’s that feeling
you get like you
are drifting
like when the drugs
hit the bloodstream
or the alcohol clouds
the brain just in the
right spot
it’s learning how
to ride those waves
how to know
when to hold
back
and when to look
death in the eye
and laugh
i look at these scars
and smile at all the
experience
sometimes the
blood is life
leaving
and sometimes
it is a gift to the
only love that
never fucked
you over
and one of these
days
you’ll get up the
courage to ask her
what her name is
talk of fathers that never loved
your lonely eyes
and my poetic
dreams
what could possibly
go wrong in this
scenario
a couple drinks
some small talk
a long discussion
about kerouac
being overrated
wild hand gestures
talk of fathers that
never loved
and just how gay
do you have to be
to be famous in
california
now we’re on to
shots and both of
us dreaming of
dylan thomas
and needing another
bar to close down
those lonely eyes
are now dark and
sunken
may we never rise
again
J.J. Campbell (1976-?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at In Between Hangovers, Rusty Truck, Synchronized Chaos, Mad Swirl, and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. http://evildelights.blogspot.com
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