plan accordingly
my spirit is
starting to wilt
under all this
pressure
and i know
damn well i'm
approaching
the cliff
a sane man
would gather
himself
take account of
the situation and
plan accordingly
the joy of not
being sane is i
get to actually
contemplate
jumping
i suppose time
will tell
a spree of some kind
i never trust anyone
who whistles a happy
tune in a graveyard
i never seek advice
from anyone who
hasn't been fucked
over at some point
in their lives
the clueless and the
perfect are absolutely
useless to this world
not saying someone
should go on a spree
of some kind
but i can't imagine
it would hurt things
as they currently are
the crazy life
another empty
bottle
yet another
morning
wondering
where you
left your keys
the crazy life
although i don't
think getting
drunk at your
parent's house
on scrabble night
counts as a night
that could be
dared to be
called epic
J.J. Campbell (1976-?) lives and writes on a farm in Ohio. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Dead Snakes, The Camel Saloon, Pink Litter, Jellyfish Whispers, and Fuck Art, Let's Dance. His most recent book, Sofisticated White Trash (Interior Noise Press) is available wherever you happen to buy books these days. You can find him most days on his highly entertaining blog, evil delights (evildelights.blogspot.com)
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