The elephant in the room
Is tired of being a metaphor.
He is tired of standing in for unpleasant, awkward things.
He is tired of being ignored -
Of being invisible.
He wants to do the same things
All elephants like to do
Like painting his toenails red;
Hiding in apple trees;
Jumping on ants.
If he could, he would pack his trunk
And cram himself into the backseat of a Volkswagen beetle
With a couple of his friends.
Maybe head down the ocean
For a weekend.
But he knows he can't.
Because however he got into our room
The door isn't big enough
For him to get out.
He could just smash through
But that would be pretty awkward and uncomfortable for everyone.
He hates being awkward.

Joe Thompson 2019

Pachydermal memories, sticky adhesions
Loosening the reigns of thoughtful ride
Outsourced skills seeping the membranes
In an amniotic suspension
The quest lays in retaining
Not to drain, yet keep momentum
As a leak at the bottom of the ocean
The strain refills
Full-filling circulation



The gentleman swims in the crowd
           Of his metropolitan pathways
              Imbibing, desirous affections
             Afflicting self response modes
           I shall surely like to be there
         But the train ceases to brake

Or abide. The subway scatters island thoughts
Motioning exward, refusal to mesh

          Though in mirth we blend
  Against the parent in congress with the goal
        Aligned with their strife
     He watch, the office traffic’s
  Yellow bleeding before all signal
Yet pushes forward pileups
His symptoms pertain; uneasy persisting exquisite

I argue with you so much,
           I'll be no victim to your rules...

So why you preach that you'll be there
        when you ain't here,
two thousand years absent,
                                  
                                    Father problems..

No, you were never a father,
            more like a ghost of wishful thinking.

But I'm now not confused,
          I went through a depression,
  
But now I know the only faith I need is inward,
             I've been here before and
   I'm not playing by your verses.

Never letting ignorance lead me astray,
    Why do others think  I'm lost when
                                     in truth I'm
finally found..

You be my Bonnie, I'll be your Clyde.
Together, we'll take this life for one hell of a ride.
You be my Thelma, I'll be your Louise.
We'll get in the car and do whatever we **** well please.
Life on the run with the one you love may sound fun.
But no matter how far or how fast you go,
eventually you will always fly too close to the sun.
It may seem natural to flee
but it doesn't matter if you run from pain or fear.
Your mind is like an elephant.
It never forgets so your problems will always reappear.
What you choose to do is up to you.
But take it from me.
Talking about your pain will set you free