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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY - 01/2012
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JJ CAMPBELL i could just kill a man musty air being pushed around by old failing fans i wake up each morning covered in sweat my patience is wearing thin and at any moment i'm bound to fucking snap and i can close my eyes and imagine telling the officers i got too damn hot and motherfuckers had to die they'll laugh uncomfortable at best and call the psych ward for this water gun doesn't have the force i so desire it to have empty pockets your dark emerald eyes pierce me in my dreams a haunting ghost with lovely curves apologies always fall on ears that need to hear something more and all i'm left with is empty pockets and a tattered soul sense of humor and personality only gets you as far as the credit card can reach it's another hotel room another lonely lobby another phone left ringing forever nothing good is walking the streets at this hour J.J. Campbell (b. 1976) lives, writes and dies a little each day on a farm in Brookville, Ohio. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Chiron Review, Poetry Super Highway, Horror Sleaze Trash, Nerve Cowboy and Gutter Eloquence Magazine. You can contact J.J. via email (jcampb4593@aol.com) or via his homepage: http://sites.google.com/site/losersincsite/ |
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© 2004-2012 Underground Voices |
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