Okay Mrs. VP

Hermes, Hermes,
What's it today?
You provoke them, spewing the things that you say.
Talking misfortunes in an upbeat way,
Skewing perception-
Quite the boastful display.

Moving, persuading, audiences of your play,
Could not have anticipated the anguish at bay.
'A catalyst,' You'd proclaimed,
Eyes revealing the dismay
The windows to your soul are in shambles
"Right this way!"

Down the winding paths where memories shall lay,
You'd brought my brother by here last May.
Nostalgic glimpses of family, a price to pay.
"Farewell, false wise one. Hope you took time to pray."

On my feet,
Under my nails.
You don’t want to be found.
I envy that too much to respect it.
I’d never understood shame,
But as everyone who you love deeply
Drifts away,
“Drifts,”
One might wonder how I can’t smell my own stink.
Welcome to Florida!
You’ll never see that phone again

This mushy couch,
I’m clammy and warm -
Crying about the wrong dad being taken
When suddenly
The therapist turns,
A knock is heard,
Many - rather.
A ladder appears
And a dude with a belt
Far too big for his stature.
He climbs and cleans
And makes me laugh,
And my asthmatic therapist
Takes us on a walk instead.
Uphill! It is humid
We both pant and sweat
I haven’t ditched the juul
The way the rug was pulled
Back we go
To the mushy couch
With the clammy pillow

Unfathomable,
Committing to wed, before one is able to drive.
Reliant on each other,
complete disarray
if tragedy suddenly arrives.
And it will, you see,
your claim to fame being all you can ***** about.
Both parents have passed by 50,
before self care you'd choose to shout.
Though I can't say much,
I suppose as a single,
with admittedly much to lose.
I just find it sad
when two will settle
not knowing what's out there to choose.

your heart was
heavy, yet held
mine, and my arms
were weak, but
the sponge never
filled and when
I wring it out
there’s shades of you
Everywhere

Cheekbones hot,
Tears shockingly cold,
Anger is consuming.
A disguise for the loneliness that is
Suffocating me.
Christmas Eve solidarity.
Exhausted doesn’t begin to define
What’s felt behind my sternum.
Screaming, fighting, running -
None of it works.
The bigger person never feels big.
I feel so, so small.

Of all that I've admired,
And every thorn needing a place to stick.
I just remembered Scrub Daddies.
I chastised one's mommy kink one time -
A shame as I didn't really care.
He was 6'6 and I just needed a snack.
Someone wring out the sponge.

Everything I love
Escapes with claw marks
And bruises they won’t discover
Until it matters

I’m so sorry
I didn’t want to
I miss you

I feel you.
Broad branches,
Tough bark.
Potentially a sculpture,
Or page,
Or foundation.
You were always beautiful

I don't think of you
As the one that got away
But I do think about you
Every time one goes

Genuinely believing
Every temporary, life changing love
Is better off after they sever me.

A ****** stamp,
Or the shelves,
Or TV,
Or lamps,
The desk? **** that, too.
But to dwindle it down,
To your perceived disrespect
Of the **** that feed you no matter how hard or often you bite?
Laughable
Pathetic
And embarrassing
Mutually, trust.

we kissed under the mistletoe
unabashed
hand on the small of my back
first and last

there's flakes making my hair wet
warm showers rubbing your back

hot red flames
pour down my cheeks;
my chest hurts,
you are here.

you can't be seen -
nor felt or heard,
but somewhere you
see me.

shows of affection,
scenes aiming towards my rocky foundation;
like that puny pebble to the giant.
i fall.

if squeezed hard enough,
eyes clenched until there's stars,
it's felt that you are proud,
or would be,
wherever you are.

what you'd boast
If you were across from me

It's been months, years even
since I knew where you were
Despite you laid against me

That shouldn't be what I long for
But I'll miss your cranium
And being the one
That got to see your mouth turn upright
Or down
When something hits home


All the best, of course.
But ow for now.

Little Lindsay lied a lot,
to anyone with ears.
Twisting, turning every thought -
she’d used others for years.
One day she thought she’d pull the wool
over a well trained eye;
forgetting all that would be felt,
through face or words can’t hide.

Up in the air, in blinding clouds, she’d wrinkle at the nose.
For her best mate, her trusted friend
had dried up at the hose.

Riddling lips, grasped one last time,
she tried hard to save face.
But little Lindsay played so poor,
embarrassing disgrace.

For could one trust another who could hate from the shadows?
You’d never know if love and care was being kept in tow.

Letters writ, with seeming guilt, though through those lines remained
the little lies of which every relation would be strained

You pull me in
And grab my face

You plant a kiss
It tastes like pennies

Scratching
Scraping
Pings and pangs
Throbbing
Pressure
Squeaky inhale
Hard exhale
Stuffy
Sticky
This is supposed to be like this

Loving and painful
I don't believe I've learned to grieve
Nobody has
Cicadas have me trapped in an echo chamber
That's a projection

Grandma would smack my hand
Gently
She meant well and I'd feel guilty
Lessons she'd learned passed to me
The lore solidified this importance
A compromise? To the salon!

I'd pick at my nail polish
A compromise from the worst?
Chipping and scraping them bare
Until they were ugly
Back to boy hands

Tomorrow could be life changing
Yet I'd face it without rest
Will or would?
Fine, I'll stop picking.

Switch blade tongue **** my *******

The margarita made me miss you more
I'd go back to Miami or Vegas in a second if I could
But not without you
You'd know the words to this song
You'd grab my leg and make me feel safe
I can't believe you're moving
All of our memories are there
I wish I understood the avoidant mind
I wish I could help you
But would that lead you to me?
Maybe not

Phone a friend
Perhaps I'd follow the lead
Predictable, you couldn't.
I have to.
We'll be there soon
You'll have much to
Post about
Positively waiting for the shoe of the
Polarity to drop

and here I sit
with letters writ
by people who get me.

a beautiful and unexpected
time for being seen.

for groups, I've steered away and hid -
the sense of self ran dry,
but brave, authentic, courageous fun;
characterizations that make me cry.

who knows why I did dig my head
so deeply in the sand,
when points between what is and could lies within my own two hands.

that silly little metaphor I've researched way too much,
just to come to realize it's been here, strange yet such.

full speed ahead, some slow and quick;
the balance is okay,
and knowing fullness comes through taking each thing
day by day.

Who put a magnet on the pendulum?
Newton’s cradle halts.
Imagine the string metal ***** suspended in space,
You and I are what’s in between,
And what’s not at all;
As well as everything.

the faculties haven't had a meeting in months
communication across the board is abysmal at best
this is not the teamwork once sold

tired metaphors preaching togetherness
all forgetting autocracy

My heart is heavy,
Candles lit
For a reunion that will never come.
Where are you?
Who are you?
Does your smile still take up your whole face?
You left something
When you left.
There’s no lost and found
It seems you never noticed it was gone.
Perhaps you read the eulogy in solitude.
It’s being held onto with care,
Just in the event the wind blows a memory your way and the longing makes its way
From me
To you.
We’re under the same moon
And that is enough to soothe
Despite a lonesome tear finding its way
Into my ear tonight.

My goodbye has never entered the air.

I will go back tomorrow to the place we knew
so well.
You’d squat in boots and skinny jeans
I’d glance, my heart would swell.
But now I have my sights set on some papers bound in glue.
It doesn’t hurt so bad today to reminisce of you.
I’ve figured what I’m looking for you never could provide -
Though what you once did long ago I wish will again be mine,
But from a mouth that doesn’t hold such sharp hostility.
For all I tried to do was the best of my abilities.
Not your fault, or mine, perhaps
That really is the truth.
A waitress follows to the door as you fled from the booth.
You introduced me to situations that didn’t hold my care,
It’s a new year and optimism is fragrant in my air.
I know it now, what it may mean to truly wish the best,
But here on out I know what’s safe to keep close to my chest.
Your morals slipped as did the mask and finger pointed wrong;
resentment beginning to blossom where I see it took so long
For me to understand that I was nothing but a kid,
Objectified as flowers, mothers, sunrises you could rid.
Arms wrapped tightly around myself, I whisper in her ear,
“You didn’t deserve that, baby. It will be better on from here.”

Someday mine might think of me
when times are good, not low.
I worry and wonder all the time,
for who or what, I'm no longer sure.
It feels as if I'm filled to the brim,
with all for others I wish for myself,
but I was never trained to self sustain,
or cause a ruckus while I wait.
Celebrating big and small, I bring flowers to the brunch.
I'll remain pretty, and patient,
generous and kind,
and wait for someone who has the capacity
for mine.

Besides knowing
Everything about me, good and ugly,
She knows how to make cement a feather.
That’s the most invaluable trait
I could hope for in someone I share my soul.
Everyday I hope to be as impactful on her.

Truly believed sentiment.
Before my *** hit the velvet couch
And the tears fell
And fell
And fell.
For the entire session.
See you next week!

The best thing you can do for an artist
is break their heart.
The creative thrive when grasping for life,
when they’ve shut out the world and all
that’s left is a pen and paper,
or ivory keys to be brutalized.
The worst thing for a creative
is to confuse good with bad,
and God with themselves -
to start controlling more than they bleed
onto the canvas as they hum into the air.

Not taking any, though
accruing scripts

I think I just needed an xray

The voice I hear before I sleep really loves hindsight

Like an experiment
What makes you this way?
Ask 'why' one more time but make it twelve
Repeat reaction

You'd move the box if you tripped over it as much as you do yourself, silly goose

Why do you need it?
You're not a vampire
Nor a Ferris wheel

Get it together

I recall sitting at that wooden table,
The grain memorized by my fingertips.
I took a bite of a fruit once ripe,
Yet no longer and I began to gag.
For decades, I’d slander this slender snack,
Giving anything but a chance;
Yet today, somewhere new,
Surrounded by berries,
It happened to be my favorite part.

How did I
Make it home
And what’s the throb
Within my neck
From my brain or hips
Misaligned pings
Pain telling me something
Yet I can’t translate

You're scared but I'll guide you
Grasp my trembling hand
Confidence is its most intangible
Yet here I feel my tallest

Through the clouds, above the fog,
the greatest mountain to witness.
Around and around, this enclosed pod,
it starts to rain - it would.
A few lonely tears kiss my cheeks,
I’m proud, and brave, and alone.

Expensive wood and brass
Traded for ego
A cry to be seen superior
But alas,
Claiming businessmen support
You’re a *******

An eye for a lie
He went blind

You arrive
As I exit
I now realize what you felt
Too late
The lost chance not fault of my own
Nary an invite
What could be
Or would’ve been
**** it

I used to
watch short films,
and dream of creating gorgeous
scenes that made people feel
deeper than they’ve ever,
like when I’d medal in a solo
after weeks of crying over sheet music,
but then I felt deeper than I’d ever,
and my brush has since ran dry.
My past passions would likely
return to me with less effort than
it initially took to acquire them,
but I’m unsure if that’s what is
best or I should pivot
into something else.

I pick and pester my own peace.
“An invisible splinter!”
Far and wide, deep and thorough.
Darwanistic ableist? Elitist?
Doubtful. Few wise words from the ponytail with powder blue nails.
“I’m sorry!”
Written up, for the truth over the lie - always.
Nauseating; the perspective isn’t beyond me.

A message sent
At a crafted time.
Manipulative, maybe…
Best luck be mine -
Not you, likely never
Truth stained in the sand,
But one last time
Let me shake your hand