How Adam felt

Strange to know how Adam must've felt when he found out that Eve had more knowledge than him. Must have been a bit disconcerting to cast niave eyes her way and feel that she, even for those moments he hesistated to bite, might know everything better than he did. If I brought you the apple, would you bite it? Would you even know what it represented if I held it aloft in my palm, cupped it to your cheek, would you even part your stubborn lips to recieve it?

I am not sure you could stomach its truths now. I have been trying to feed them to you all this while. I know in the end, like Eve, I'll be blamed for this inserruciton. Probably I should have stayed mute and just let myself alone be cast out of this imaginary Eden, but you have to know, that once I tasted that truth it was worth sharing. It was the only thing then that would keep us together. Even if we were in exile, at least we would have had our heartbeats to keep us company.

But no, you have trouble seeing reason, don't want to do anything but shake off the load of what I'm trying to tell you. If ignorance is bliss, then you'd rather play the fool skipping merrily off the edge, loot in lips; than come to the heriphant's temple and learn of secrets and myth made truth. You think I seek to trap you, to ferry you away all on my own. But that apple taught me, one can never tame a wild thing, the only thing that binds it to another is love.

So I have bled my heart to the last drop at your feet, and still you want to play clever games. Invoking memories so long past, even I have trouble remembering them. Is that supposed to woo me back into complacency in your arms for another night? I can't go back now, I have eaten that fruit and it gave me eyes to see, it gave me courage to speak. Don't you see? This garden is a cage filled with gorgeous snakes and plumed birds sent to distract you my love. It's a mirage that you seem to think is more real than the apple I am tempting you to nibble at. I am trying to set you free one bite at a time.

The Bends

I had thought on it, all day and into the early evening. Why was it bothering me so much that you should spend your countless hours with him, and seem to revel in my absence, but when I asked for you by my side it was counted out only in the hour. As it that would met sastisfaction to my soul. I found it out, traced the rat scent back to its source, you denied me comfort. Saying only strangley that it was only I you ever wanted for. That it was only my love for which you thristed.

But pray my sweet, spare me the half truths. You don't even sense your deciet, so rich it runs. Let me spell it out for you plainly. You have a problem with priorities. You have an infatuation with romance in the star crossed sense. Let me put it to you plainly, you are not interested in lasting love, if in in lasting love you cannot commit. You are interested in quick bonds, and tumble weed friendships. Each new friend you aquire is not unlike the last, you pour yourself heart and soul into the connection until the ground brakes under your fragile feet giving way to landslide. Wanting to achieve what it takes others lifetimes to emcompass you file away every secret, every heartfelt truth, and you bare all, sending countless hours to capivate their attention; to arrest it; to possess it as if for all eternity.

Silly girl, gentle debutant, don't you know, the one whom bears wilted corsage for your innermost self has been waiting all these wiles. You give yourself away, doting on conncetions that are superficial and prone to misgivings and falling outs. All the while, I steadfast cling to your love. But for what? Another week surrendered to your independence or mine. And all the while you loose sight of me. Your love, your future wife, the mother of your children, the spinster that will tend your grave faithful. Have you no favor bodily or otherwise to spend in my direction no longer? Have I lost my luster for the gleam of distance jewels? Do I not posses the right parts to keep your affections near my heart? Can you speak on it but a little?

Lady love, I beseech thee, give me reason to stay and I will chain my heart to yours gladly as always. If you want for depth of friendship, for a bond unwavering, for kinship such should never fall to questioning, look no futher than my gaze. You pour your affections into bonds ill spent, they do not love you as I do. They do not long to know your spirit as I do, but hunger only selfishly, hanging themselves upon your pride and virtue. I was ill spent but to tell you thus, I love you so much that I hunger for more after every kiss rather than flee. I have run in the past, but always returned to your side. Ever your sire, I pray you will be reminded of the tokens of my love.

You seek to drive me out to jealously's end. I warrent it not. My lady truth, please, hear me: if you should want for companionship that never waivers let me be thy enternal friend and lover. If there was ever a more deserving soul for this favor, let their name be known now. But if you bid me farewell, then say it loudly, so that my half graced ears might hear you clearly and hanging my head, retreat into the darkness whence I came.

Orange Peel Sonnet

Carve a crater cradle in my moonbeam skin,
let me write you an orange peel sonnet.
You'll notice after the first taste,
it's not quite ripe.

The pale green tinge
kissing your palm
is screaming confessions.
But your eyes are not
tuned to the pitch
of any other protest
but your own.
They will go unreconciled.

Be still my sweet,
let me braid my pulse
into your Desdemona curls.
That chestnut sea could never be tamed
by calloused fingers
bearing ribbons and lace.
I was a fool to think
that my love
might have ever tamed it either.

Only thing you seem to find
consistantly beguiling
about me is my prose.
So I wrote you out
word for word
until every letter of the
alphabet had first blushed
then grimmaced
after too much use to
praise your name
above any other.

You're as intemperate
as your planetary ruler.
Venus vain.
You are
too flickle to belong
to just one admirer
only.

Can't thrive without
the adulation of multiple heartbeats
vying for your name
Primma Donna
Throw your roses to those you fancy most today
then wave them scarlet in the others' faces
till they turns chartroise with displeasure.

Goad the bull
until it stampedes
snorting and pawing.
You always did like it best broken
must be a touch of the theater in your blood.

I am no Ferdinand
No gentle crown of daises for your
head
I have only
varas and banderillas
for you now.
Finish what you've started
my head hangs low
my horns filed down to dull points,
go ahead
run me through with flare
and poorly timed melodrama.

Don't quicksilver tongue
the wound
it's not meant for spit shine
and polish
only meant for rot.

You won't find more sweet for you in
the iron gracing my viens tonight
Dear muse,
you casked your wine too tight
now raisined
it is only sharp
like vinegar
and sour
like my disposition.