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J. J. Campbell |
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i seriously doubt the bliss sometimes i'll brush my teeth until i spit out nothing but blood but i'm not one of them you know, one of these people that get off on seeing their own blood but i do realize by seeing my own blood i don't have to see the blood of others here in my world of violence, war, murder, rape and the evening news another night spent wondering if my tear stained pillows will hold my head up from sinking down into a hopefully blissful alcohol induced coma yet again though i seriously doubt the bliss given that each time i close my eyes, i see you at the counter filling prescriptions while i'm three aisles away, staring, stalking, yet never having the balls to come up and say hello and the back of my mind pictures you now married with children, living in some lovely utopia while i look on from my blackened cage much like a dog with his nose buried in shit sometimes i'll brush my teeth until i spit out nothing but blood just another step on my yellow brick road to madness my life is missing a funky bass line just spent the last 45 minutes in the shower contemplating death and now i'm dripping my indecision on the page this towel barely covering my fat ass reminds me of the barbed wire around my brain is it there to hold something in or keep something out? of course, these proverbial questions will never be answered given my constant state of one hand on the remote and the other on my dick and given that constant state you may be asking yourself how am i writing this poem? your guess is as good as mine my friends, probably even better it just seems my life is missing a funky bass line no matter what i do, it always seems i'm out of step but oh well, i'm just stupid enough to keep trying time to strap on my dirty clothes and hit a new town a place where they don't know me find myself a new me and hopefully something in a real short skirt with a face that screams no morals yeah, that may just do the trick [Index] |
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Thunder Sandwich #26 - Summer/Fall 2005 |
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