The woman, a nest of grey,
Takes you down to Chelsea Bay.

She stories you, and every time,
Mentions her garden, offers a lime.

A pile of words, so interspersed,
Grows so large, she loses sight of the first.

You scale the sentences, smile in hand,
Laughter, reveals, accusals grand.

She tells you, think differently, make circles of these lines
Use all the pieces of this fruity life, don’t dare discard the rind.

If minds had hands, as pontificate in tandem,
you’d hold hers steady, sliding addendum to addendum.

Then, saying goodbye, she extends once more a lime.
Forgetting, all too quickly, you’d already declined.

If gas prices taught us anything,
There's money in selling efficiency.
No one has a back to break these days,
Nor the time to do it.
I could labor in the fields,
Or click a button.
I still get the apple,
But is it truly the fruit of my work?

Reach high into the air, towards the trees
bearing the fruits of your labor.
You have tended them with care for so long,
and now they are heavy. Laden with new growth,
they are begging to be lightened. Reap the benefits
and harvest the rewards of your hard work.
You deserve to imbibe on the nectar of your toil.

has anyone ever noticed how similar humans are to rotten fruit? we're all just messed up creatures on the inside with beautiful shells, some more pleasing than the others. take a bite and you might get sick. the rotten parts do spread, that is if you don't take care of them. like a broken heart...

the dew of my tears feels wet on tight sleeves
the sweat from my brow jumps like water in springtime
and if I could use words to describe my heart – it would
only seal away my lips

my tears are like scattering flowers
blown away by the winds – my lungs are a leafless branch
veiled in such a dry cough; choking away at my pride

nights I’ve dreamt of suicide, to live on
and tell of it lies; it was an empty void that wouldn’t fill
the belly of some hungry wild dog – and if I could speak
a fruitful prophecy for my life, my lips would be the scent of plums.

Does reading my words make you feel things you wish you could alter?
I know you hate to know this but I've kept the truths of what you've all done watered
and yes on your side of the fence by your hands the roots were slaughtered
you all screamed my name with each of my innocent saplings you hacked and quartered

but that was only half of them, you all missed some in the corner, so now ladies and gentlemen ready yourselves for a tour to behold this tortured orchard

where the fruit rots and the fruit spoils
where the tree limbs twist and the tree limbs coil
where the ground has shards of glass and shrapnel in the soil
where the sun's so hot every drop of rain and dew begin to boil

liars and thieves
liars and thieves
the invaders who brought the plague that burned the leaves and replaced each of my succulent crops with piles and piles of thorny weeds
you all tried to force the fruit down my throat grown from your poisonous seeds
I realized now not everything that says it's human and has a heart bleeds

you guys who sniffed things through a cut straw that looked like powered chalk
you girls who'd give ***** looks and lift your hands to hide your lips as you talked
learn to keep my name out your mouth and to leave my page unstalked
cause if y'all can't stand me why do you stay looking at my posts from an account with an @ like a bot?

How does it feel? to know I remember the things you forgot
to know he's truly just my friend but has more fun with me than you even when you're giving him backshots
I laughed at you and found it really pathetic how you made your friend check my tiktoks
and honey... that natural deodorant doesn't work for you, even week old dead fish smell better at any fish mongers dock

The girl who had mice feet running over her children's silverware, your husband's a ***** and so are you if you're unaware
For fun you drink nyquil and it's not less ****** sipped out of earthenware
you used to say "I hate him this time of year, even the way he stupidly stares"
well this is the rest of your life honey, aren't you scared? and also if no one's told you please stop cutting your kids hair

And the ex I spoke to last November, I asked if you were excited to marry her, do you remember? well you left me shocked when your answer wasn't yes because with her in life you want to forever venture, my jaw dropped when the only thing you said you were excited for was being a child's predecessor and I hope you know one of my life's biggest treasures is knowing it wont be my precious blood that's shed to give you a successor. Oh, and your wife knows we talked, right? You did happen to tell her?

Either I've added to the lore or I've been talking to a wall, either way- you all make sure you come back to visit and take another tour of the tortured orchard next fall.

Whispers faint inside my ear
As I bite into the pear
It tastes bittersweet, I lick
It's **** juice between my teeth.

And when I reach for another
My weak hand gets pulled right back:
"Shouldn't you not even bother
Until the pear seeds turn black?"

"No," I say, "must try one more.
There's no time to wait; You see,
All the good pears have been taken
And there's barely left for me.

All my life I have been waiting,
Years of looking at the tree
Just to wait for the right moment
For me to reach out and see...

This one's bitter, green and sour,
Unlike any I have seen
In the hands of all the others
Who came rushing before me."

And as I reach for a pear,
One that's sunkissed, sweet and rare,
When I brush it with my fingers,
Suddenly it falls straight down,
Crushed onto the umber ground,
It's sweet juice spread all around.

There’s a nasty stain on the carpet
A yard from the door,
Dark orange of a shade
I once used to adore.

I’ve bleached and soaked the relentless spot
Till my hands and knees bit,
I’ve covered it with rugs,
But my mind still wont remit.

Curse the careless way I ate that fruit!
I cry into the smudge.
Each time I walk inside,
This brand relights my grudge.

Maybe over time I’ll learn to note it less,
A spark more than a fire.
Till then I guess I stare,
At this mandarin expired.

When the world ended,
There was nobody,
Well, not to blame at least.

We all know
It was our fault
For trying to tame the beast

That was each other;
The ones above us,
Who enjoy their blazen yeast;

And the gods
Who roamed among us,
Who’d rather blame the feasts.

So we killed them:
Our friends, our enemies.
We tore down our economy.

We killed them:
Ourselves, each other.
Split necks, called it dichotomy.

We killed them:
Our world, our sins,
And practiced red topography.

We killed them:
Our sons, our men
And I pretend it doesn’t bother me.

It’s over, what can we do,
But bear our children
Directly into misery?

It never started, but whoever knew
A perfect world
Could fall into asymmetry

Was thought a god,
Like you humans do,
You who are yet to know of empathy

Claim to be gods
When all you can do
Is all but value your epiphanies.

When the world didn’t end,
Everyone noticed.
Well, at the most, it was done subconsciously.

As such, nobody knew,
And as humans do,
They’d continue their rule in cacophony.

They would each learn no lesson,
They’d die in succession,
And abandon design and biology.

They’d choose all that exists:
Good, evil, abyss,
And believe they were gods wholeheartedly.

When the world didn’t end, it bothered me,
As the fruit of that tree
Is a part of me.