forcing the sweet nectar out of this rotten fruit
feeling impoverished as I know I'm acting out of desperation
I'm too weak to reach for another from the tree
the repeated jumping I've done has taken all of the strength from me
I reach for a ladder but find a bottle
its definitely not sweet but it'll ground me for a while
now I cant stop drinking this welcoming, burning juice
because I'm nervous I wont stick my landing if I'm able to jump again
our fruit has long been spoiled
rotting from deprivation of attention and care
I had my head in the mud with my bottle beside me
and your head was looking miles away, unaware that I was lying face down right next to the legs of the throne you placed yourself in