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Eve's Choice
i want the apple i don't want the apple there is fruit they tell me the fruit is meant to be eaten I do what I’m told because I do what I’m told and the heart is only a muscle vomiting out a snake. Before I grabbed for the fruit, a fever took me in something like a dream, I was told it was a dream and they told me feelings are valid but they aren’t always facts and that made sense to me so I took the fruit like I thought a man would. Is something bad going to happen? I asked them in something like a dream. Magical thinking, they said, and practicing magic are different things, don’t you know? One day a thing called cyber magic will exist and your children will be spellbound by it, a dark kind of magic you won’t know how to undo but contributed to. They said this as if this magic was part of the fruit, a necessary evil, I heard. I don’t think they said it but I knew it like an open window and stark breeze like light comes in, ivy rendered like buildings made of wood and things called robots tended to like people. I don’t know what this is but I know fruit. Is the value there or do we create it? Is the fruit the value or did I value the fruit so much it became the only diamond, a speech about dreams? What value is in silence? What value is there in my body holding your spirit, my spirit moving into your body, a ghost serpent everywhere at once slithering, a regulated heart? Does not being on the internet mean you’re worse than dead— that you don’t exist, aren’t worth remembering, not even for the fruit or the hand that touched it? |
