Justin S Wampler

Justin S Wampler Jun 2022

I fancy the fierce fog,
backlit by the morning sun.

Burn off, slowly.
The day has just begun.

Justin S Wampler Jun 2022

Floating

Can't get my **** hard,
I like her too much.

It's funny, the discrepancy.

I've ****** broads
that I don't give a **** about,
****** them hard and
never had this problem.

Love weaves it's intricate web
in my silver-gilded psyche.

It doesn't even matter
if it's love that I'm after.
It's here, and it's taken me,
regardless of what I want.

So I'll be here
with my soft ****,
hoping that love
will reciprocate.

Limply limping
towards my ill-
chosen fate.

Maybe she'll **** herself.

Maybe I'll get her pregnant,
well...
not with this soft **** I won't.
I needn't be paranoid
about that, just yet.

Maybe we can just be...

happy?

Maybe we can tread the waters between
such poetic extremes,
a child,
a death.

So,
would you like to
just float with me?

We can drift amidst
these in-betweens.

Justin S Wampler Jun 2022

Write and Wrong.

Until you hate me,

you'll love me.

Liquor, and love lost.
Left.
Leaving.

Right?

Everyone leaves,
no one is left.
What's right?

What's
wrong?

What's
write?

I'll be your fondest memories,
you'll be my greatest regret.

Justin S Wampler Jun 2022

Snow

There's a knife for you
buried under two feet of snow.
There, you'll find purpose.

You'll find beauty.

You'll find meaning
in the interstitial drops
of burgundy that spatter
the billowy white blanket
of cold.

As your hand disturbs
the pristine surface,
and plunges further
into numbness;
you'll feel good.
You'll feel God.
You'll feel free.

Oh, the freedom you'll feel.
Oh, the freedom.
The peace.
The quiet,
the solace,
the relief...

God,
the relief...

There's a knife for you,
for anyone. For everyone.
If you're willing to dig deep enough.
If you're willing to clench blindly
through the frigid snow.

There's a knife for me too, but

my hand is cold.

Justin S Wampler Jun 2022

Shades

When clouds move aside
and let the rays shine,
life seems to be smiling.

Radiant teeth are
a mid-June sky
biting ceaselessly
into my eyes.

Justin S Wampler Jun 2022

Ground-biscuits.

The pancake tree softly slapping in the breeze,
gravy to dip your ground-biscuits in.
A sip of ginge,
locking eyes with Bella.

The taste of three or four Stellas,
blue twine escaping our lips
as we smoke in between our
bouts of rapid acceleration.

She can't get the music playing
with my mouth on her earlobe.
The stolen speaker saves us.

Naked on the deck,
enjoying the wooden structure
before she burns it down.

She's puzzled, puzzling.
Dwight's **** is
somewhere in the
jumbled mix.

Locking eyes again,
with Bella.
I laugh, and laugh
and laugh.

I love to laugh.
I love to say "No."
when she asks
if she's allowed
to come.

So close too,
maybe this time
I'll say
"Yes."

Maybe not.

Justin S Wampler Jun 2022

Magnets

Wrapped all around me.
Locked tight behind my back.

I could stay here for awhile.
She doesn't seem to mind.

Drawn together,
polarized lips.

It's something else.
It doesn't conform
to sensibilities,
to expression.

It's ethereal,
it's a misted forest path
winding through
a familiar vale.
A hidden walkway
you never noticed,
even though
you've been
down this
trail before.

It's something that
words can't convey,
but you know it
when you feel it
and you're powerless
to ignore it.

Drawn together,
tangled up,
wound about,
bound,
knotted.

Drawn together,
fated.