Leave my bones out to dry in the scorching sun.
Bleach them white, flesh falling
until I’m unrecognizable.

Quicksand hearts sink into
disappearing rotting carcasses-
The grass grows taller there.

Door left ajar,
swarms of honeybees
humming battle cries
despite their last breath.

I think they mistook me for the apple over there.

Tobacco fields replace valleys of grass,
letters pleading for his girls to come home
reveal a shellfish man exposing sleeves.
"Come join me!"

And maybe that’s why
I feel some sick connection
to you when I’m high.
Like father, like daughter-
I’m waiting for some self induced
Alzheimer's to set in.

An apple rotting, shut away too long,
not a single bite missing.