I feel how I believe an apple with worms must feel. I am aware of my desire to ripen and be eaten, and I am also aware of the *****, crawling creatures inside of me. I will be cut open, and they will see the dirt brown rotting of my core. It is a tragedy that I could've been like those sweet, red apples, and it is a tragedy that I never could've been like them as well.

I’ll tell you a story, one you’ve forgotten.
About an apple tree with roots that are rotten.
This tree made apples, deformed, not round.
Spoiled and smelling, they fell to the ground.
Near to the tree, they seemed far from useful.
No creature would eat them to make themselves full.
But these apple seeds were untouched, unspoiled.
By removing the rot, in water that boiled,
The farmer could purify these seeds,
Use them for his needs,
Even though they were rotten.
Don’t let this story be forgotten.

Is it worth it,
To pay straight from your wallet,
To a computer screen?

Yet not feeling,
The weight leave your pocket,
Getting a moment to think, is this worth it?

Hunger changes everything.
Although everyone and everything has intention,
hunger is no different, no matter what it's for.
Your heart, an apple dangling from a branch
I could not reach until I became hungry.
It became the object not just of affection,
but of my appetite.
I wanted not only to bite into it,
but to savor what makes you, you.
I reached until I grabbed it,
the apple that is your heart.
No matter how the branch swayed,
I was determined.

Under any other circumstance,
I would not have touched it,
maintaining composure when it came to
the apple of your heart.
Overthinking myself out of what could have been
one of the most beautiful things,
feeling unworthy,
until hunger made me notice you more.
Want turned to craving,
and I realized that the most precious things
erode and disappear over time.
Half smiling, yet anticipating change,
I know that, in time, I, too, will erode
remembering how sweet you were,
inviting me to quench
not just my hunger, but my thirst.
After a while, it wasn’t about hunger at all.
I just wanted to be close to you

Bad apple,
come spoil my bunch.
I've got a hunch
that you're a little sweet
and sour.
Cold's the wind
and late's the hour.
Let's soften together.

One good apple's all I ask.
I will not stoop or stretch.
Neither will I pay for it,
though I'm a starving wretch.

I will stand beneath the tree
and to it, gently call.
I will open up my arms
and hope the right one falls.