Who the fuck rapes poeple?
Who the fuck rapes people?
How does the mind
conciously allow me
penetrate the innocence
of a dumb fucking cunt
who gets lost
in the illustrious environment
of an Abercrombie & Fitch outlet
at the mall
thinking about how neat of a woman
Coco Chanel was?
In the mind of a rapist
its gotta look like a porno
where shes taking off her panties
but loking at it from afar,
hes ripping her panties off
and instead of “oh my god it’s so big,”
its “oh my god somebody help me.”
Its fair to assume I heard the former
because her words were slightly muffled
by the panties in her mouth.
She could taste when she once lusted
for the quarterback
but now she dealt with what felt like
a stack of quarters
oscillating from the back of her ass
which was too big for her own fucking good.
Roofies don’t cost much
you dumb whore
and it’s particularly easy
to get a red cup in your hand
because you drink as if
you got a fucking GPA for it.
But you know where a 4.0
in belligerant intoxication can get you
behind a bush
losing what you never deserved.
I could see that you had some pimples on your back
and it really killed the mood.
But we’re all human, right?
James Campbell about James Campbell
I hate how much a name means to people. Hail from Port Townsend, WA., and I started writing because I wanted to dig into my own head a bit. If people can take meaning, or if I can take meaning from what I write, then I will feel accomplished. One idea I really like: If man was perfect, he would be God. I don’t believe in religion, I just admire the philosophies of many of them. I’m really into people’s perspectives on dealing with situations, and fucking rhetoric sensitivity in the asshole. I want to find the deepest, most sincere matter in my head and express it. I also hate it when people smile for the camera. And how people have different modes for dealing with different people. How a person will talk more formally to an authority, and more casually to its friends.