Muscle Poems

I realize my expectations

Are always met.

Hello!

How are you?

At either pace,

High and Low.

You are supposed to be

Motherless

So I can take you in.

Start it off as ‘I’

And you have ‘Me.’

You can’t use all this shit

Because some of it is mine.

Play the dope show some more

I channel frying pan, too.

Sue me if this is a hit

Off your score.

And the brain ain’t dead.

Any way.