J.J. Campbell

around three each morning

the world is on fire again

floods near the mountains
of my youth

the spanish princess wants 
to run away with me after 
one of us wins the lottery

i kiss her goodbye as i know 
sadly, neither of us will ever 
be lucky at all

and the ghosts come to visit
around three each morning

so vividly that old souls are 
conjured into an existence 
they have never even known

and with the hands firmly 
gripped around the neck 
of life

squeezing it to death

i wonder if i’ll even bother 
to have an obituary

maybe just put me in the 
ocean like a terrorist

burn me on the closest cross
and mix the ashes with the 
shit roses grow in

i once thought i was in love

turned out it was indigestion

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