Green-eyed monster

Jealousy.
The green-eyed monster. is. me. She crawls up on me. uncontrollably. erotically. She creeps her claws sporadically. We are living in a time of wanting things. Wanting more things. We want you. Friend. You are the one I want. Not so that I can use you and toss you like a towel. Nay. I want you behind me. Arm wrapped around my waist under the moonlit cotton candied railing, over the puke-soaked, mud-covered, stainless dignity of the last night of this decade. It was a dream. Perhaps, a dream like one I had not so long before. Where, once again, the moon chaperoned my lustful hyper-youthed quest for someone. And you promised me, sir, that you were different. You promised me, sir, that you were different. I am amazed at this beast who now lives inside of me. She is the offspring of your inconsistanc(ies). She is the child of your inability to commit! She is your lovechild, candy man. Your responsibility you dirty hormonal boxing happy lanky giggly brown-eyed fools. I am not ready to bear the burden of un-affection disinfection discontented abandonment, I am not worthy of not feeling worthy of feeling valuable in discounted days of family packs, jumbo-sized toilet paper rolls, I am not a towel, you are not a towel, but the seed has grown, she screams, and now she wants me to be all alone.
Jealousy.
She is the byproduct of ungrateful men, she is the creeping homeless glass-shatered limb-dismembered red-haired, smiling, girl, smirking at you, yet so small. She is me, crying hysterically in your room, bathroom, car, elevator. She is my shoulder to weep on, mascara-smeared pillows can only compare, we are all alone, you and I, me and her, us, walking hand-in-hand giggly Jealousy! She consumes me, for you don't want to! Not you, or you, I might be wrong, but I am just so tired.
Jealousy.
But see, this is where you are wrong, my fellow gentlemen. You are the fools! Because strength lies in this. In this ability to lie in beds of horn-hankering hammered hyenas, and come out proud, tall, dignified yet modestly monolithically constrained, chocolate-covered, nonetheless, we introspectively outshine you cookie cutter man-made men. We are ice cubes in a melting stream of messhugah!
And she, my friend, my child, my wife, me, Jealousy, she is my alter ego! You see, we are not defined by our flaws, in our world. We are labeled as condiments, to be used, accordingly, harmoniously in these plates of platitude mono-ness antiheterity! We are hedonistic fools, alongside our Epicurean delights we imagine a world of cookies. White chocolate-covered treats. My neck is burned, Jealousy, where were you then?
Ah, I mustn't be upset at you. Forgive me. Jealousy, why do you dress like such a whore? Reconsider those cutoffs and toss your hair in a pineapple bun. My you're getting big.
He never cared about me.
You're getting huge.
He never loved me.
You're mighty tall. Calcium-ridden mineralized spinning smiles. You are my epiphany. You are my purpose now.
Jealousy,
oh jealousy,
you complete me so.
Together.
You and I,
(me)
we will grow up.
We will fight
these
jumbo-sized
toilet paper
rolls.