​Morgan Campbell

Marlboro Lights


The smoke of regret hangs on my clothes
as if I just ran wildly through pricker bushes.
The burning cuts on my soft flesh sting from the ghost touches of roses.
My soul, burns from the moonless pleasure of you leaving.
Angels are the only one who witness me breaking
in the hotel.
I strip and submerge
into the mirror. Flesh glittering and burning from the soapy droplets.
It still smells like your rehearsed words.
Cigarette stained lies.

Word Poem


Facetious woman
Precocious worm
You are nothing more than your body
You are the sum of your parts
You were made to be humble and mellow, not snobby
You must treat eunuchs, liars, and catfishers with kindness even with their sly ways.
Honey s what you will be, sophisticated in flavor to be savored – over and over
Because a woman will only be a pussy
A shadow of independence
You’d’ve been smart if you just took it, you cunt
You chunky whore, you loose thot, cum lactating bitch
My dick is a blessing
So let me shower you with my love as the dark is the only witness to our melancholic dance


East Fork:

A Journal of the Arts​​


Homage to my Eyes


My eyes can see for free, and they take in all
A stormy gray green – lilies with cloudy
pond water dancing together.
A white bright blue, with its dark ring
around the outside – looking up through
a hole in ice as you float
helplessly in the frigid embrace.
My eyes have cried oceans to drown and
burned holes through skulls.
My eyes are blue agates, lapis lazuli’s,
aquamarines.
My eyes are blueberries, feathers of blue jays,
water.
My eyes have witnessed assault, abuse
lies dripping from your lips like acid.
My eyes are powerful – stopping you where you stand in fear or awe,
bringing you to your knees in a single look.
My eyes are dry and burn from my 20 hour day, but I’m not done yet.
I know they can go on for a little while
longer.