strange fruit

apples
from the tree
outside the gates
of elizium
we bit off less
than we could chew
it meant nothing
real
in a world sheltered
by hands too busy
and tired
to make it real
breathe in
the solution
deeper
the solvent
then rise and shine
a little dimmer
by the hour
by the years
roller skate circles
around
the hot blooded
until the fever slows
you
levels
knocks you down a little further
makes you powerless
lifeless
even
in a heap
like fallen apples
scattered far from trees
still dense
across the fields
lying
like a woman
on a couch
with a migraine
if she is there at all
imagine
a day
your actions
bear fruit