Untitled #85

there is a taste in my mouth
sweet and stagnant like October
like apples ripe and ready
till she swallows

takes you in, whole and consumed
like that serpent of Eden
still promising endless truths

the fruit of thy womb
the apple of my eye
candy coated scarlet red
forbidden and sacred.

I was raised up as Lazarus
only to be hung like the fool
for seeking those wisdoms.

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