J.J. Campbell

at the top of their lungs

searching for nirvana
between the thighs
of a lovely woman
in rome

i want to believe in
love, the future, a
destiny deserving
of all this pain

but i’ve choked on
my disillusionment
since i was a child

one night it’s
the bottle

the next night it’s
a butcher’s knife
thrown across
the room

there isn’t any love
in the room if someone
isn’t screaming at
the top of their lungs

i’m still searching
for nirvana

soft skin on a
sunny beach

worries swept away
with the tide

not all sins can be
washed with blood
or simply brushed
under the last dirty
rug in the house