I.
Jealousy, envy, cheery, fine.
Like a dog barking to alert me of something noisy and unusual, I am greeted with no smile. like a car horn trumpeting for my attention to order, the TV in the neighbor’s house is turned off for the night. like a baby’s cry as a prayer of great accuracy…their signal an attempt at my peace.
II.
Jealousy, envy, cheery, fine.
Why do I feel less than dignity? Why do we seem to always be drunk? It must be the shrillness of a noise ripping through a day time hour in the morning who, that makes me feel creepiness and crippling courting through my skin. At every chance, a hello is a request. I discover hurrying away from the outside with my feet plastered in a sprint only makes me feel romantic to myself. Only finding freedom in my ability to commiserate inside my own Hell. No perfect. No perfect. Might as well get along.
Maybe a word I just don’t want to take in. Maybe four.
Muscle Poems 
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