May 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Three
J. J. Campbell

bloody hands
wrapped around what i thought
was the future

it was only another fantasy
turned into a slit wrist night
of loneliness

the tragedy of balcony alcohol
too much time on my hands
the stars rekindling old dreams
of her eyes
whispering into my soul

the back alley screams of passion
recollecting scenes of lust from my past

cars drive by
the neon lights blitz my head
i want to jump
drive a stake through this heart

see if i can fly
show the world what murder really is

but i succumb to fear
dreams of someone else
some fucked up thought that
everything happens for a reason

i'll grow from this

soon i'll be inward
drinking uncontrollably

smoking three packs a day
watching old films of bogart
polishing my guns

peeking through the window
hoping to see the sun
laughter of children

only to see death
hypodermic needles
marching through the streets
of los angeles

the roaches break through the wall
of my existence

they crawl on my skin
have sex

get into long conversations
about the national debt

i can feel them killing me
nibbling at this tattered skin

soon i'm nothing but
old bones
broken dreams
a burning cigarette resting

at the base of my soul

i wonder who'll bring
the gasoline
RETURN to May 2005