The fruit to die for:
The apple of neighbour’s bough.
And I burned of desire.
I died and dried,
and abstinence turned me to stone.
And pain sculpted me
with the elongated chisel
of an insatiable thirst,
of the desired apple,
so near
almost in your hand
yet out of reach;
living, lavish on all your senses
upon a wall
between two nonexistences.
The well of insatiable thirsts
in the bough of apples
wizening over the wall
between two existences!
