twenty minutes of whatever

i could taste it on your lips

your skin was covered with it

your eyes sunk with the
reality of it all

and i'm pretty sure you could
sense it from me as well

we both knew
just like the old days
we were simply wasting each
other's time again

wondering if one of us was going
to get something out of this

i suppose this is how it usually is
when the unemployed fuck

twenty minutes of whatever
forever removed from our boring lives

and i'm sorry that i don't
like the taste of blood

thanks for the blowjob though

and you're right
i'm sure you'll be back
on some other day
wanting to collect your reward

J.J. Campbell (b. 1976) lives, writes and dies a little each day in the state
of Ohio. He's widely published in the small press, most recently in Spent
Meat, Zygote In My Coffee, Fearless, Open Wide Magazine and Unlikely Stories.
J.J. also has been included in a number of chapbooks, anthologies and a spoken
word project. You can contact him via email at jcampb4593@aol.com

2003 Underground Voices