J.J. Campbell

 

J.J. Campbell is old enough to know better. He should have died last year yet inexplicably still lives on an 80 acre farm in Brookville, Ohio. J.J. has been widely published in the small press, most notably at Thunder Sandwich, Nerve Cowboy, Zygote in My Coffee, Chiron Review and Babel Magazine. He's been involved with various projects over the years, usually to the dismay of family members. Feel free to email J.J. at any time, though don't expect a response, unless you buy something.

 

J.J. Campbell's Homepage: http://sites.google.com/site/losersincsite

 

boyish good looks

 

dancing with death

as i pretend these

watercolors are

actually helping

 

i'm old enough now

to be comfortable

with it

 

the evil that persists

inside me

 

not all of us get

to be the hero

 

besides

 

i've lost any boyish

good looks it would

take to pull off that

role

 

and thank god

 

for the years it has

taken to grow this

goatee

 

i might as well be

some evil overlord

in the latest sci-fi

piece of shit coming

to a theater near you

 

---

 

a quarter century of failure

 

this year roughly marks twenty

five years since i first had the

notion to kill myself

 

how does one celebrate

such an anniversary

 

shotgun

 

alcohol

 

razor blades

and a bathtub

 

a running car

in a closed

garage

 

a vacation to

the golden gate

bridge

 

it's a shame that all of

them ring so hollow

and are so cliched

 

sadly i think it's the

current path for me

letting the beard grow

and simply fading away

 

leaving it to the rest of

you to come up with a

better cliche

 

though, i will warn you now

if i happen to come into some

money i'm hiring a firing squad

 

i've always been a big fan of

history and god knows i could

use another last cigarette

 

---

 

i like mom better anyway

 

i've practiced the conversation

about a thousand times

 

just in case she doesn't want

an abortion

 

just in case a swift kick down a

couple flights of stairs doesn't

do the trick

 

just in case hush money isn't

accepted

 

i've practiced the conversation

explaining to my child why i'm

inadequate as a father nearly a

thousand times

 

starting off about how my father

never told me he loved me unless

my mother forced him to

 

how my father never showed me

how to build or fix anything

helping was either holding a ladder

or staying the fuck out of the way

 

how my father never showed me

how to interact in public without

being loaded on alcohol

 

how my father... and it's at this

point where my child stops me

and says i get it dad, you're an

asshole, it's ok, i like mom

better anyway

 

that's much better than how my last

conversation went with my father

 

i told him if he threatened my

mother again, i'd kill him

 

of course, i'm prepared for the

threat of death from my child

 

after all

 

given the history of this gene pool

it seems the only natural way

 

---

 

social anxiety disorder

 

so there i was in some trendy

save the downtown industrial

district restaurant for my mother's

fifty-fifth birthday party

 

surrounded by family and her friends

the kind of shit i normally avoid

 

and sure enough, after a hour and a

few beers i'm on the toilet

 

and it's the kind of bloody shit that

for as much shit that makes the toilet

there is an equal amount on the floor

and in your pants

 

the kind of shit that you know

you'll never be able to wipe it all

 

the kind of shit bukowski made

famous

 

and like clockwork, back out at the

table i could feel the stink start to

fester up my spine

 

and looking over at all the young hot

barmaids and waitresses i could feel

the depression getting ready to set up

camp

 

it was right about then that the cousin

that molested me as a child handed me

a piece of cake

 

i could hear god laughing over in the

corner with all the cool kids

 

and as i got up to leave and noticed the

little bit of blood and shit on the chair

 

i reminded myself that on days like these

men much better than me have killed

themselves

 

i can only wonder what i'm waiting for

 

---

 

performance anxiety

 

she told me she wanted

my cum all over her face

 

that was the first time in

my 28 years that an actual

woman and not a video said

those words to me

 

and in my excitement

i completely missed her face

and shot it all over

the antiques behind her

 

i guess kissing isn't the

only thing i do with

my eyes closed