this taste in the mouth is acidic
oranges peeled with the sharpest of knives
still lodged in the fruit;
the concentration of blood and citrus is
devistating, to the point that the simple
meaning of pain is eclipsed and incinerated by
the sun.

these fruits of our labor hold some
side that they are always not so keen to reveal.
the sweeter the taste, the more embattled the hope.
the more brilliant the color, the less likely
the rainbow.

walking through a graveyard of these sour tastes,
and one could only find the coldest of colors,
the spectrum is not something explored by any
conventional means. it is only self discovery
mixed with the various colors we can
force ourselves to emit. the natural,
the organic, the preservative, the
mixture will soon enough combine to black.
this inescapable reality is even present when
the brightest of colors are chosen to paint this
picture of a happy couple;
and thus, the dreams may burn citrus through the
cuts etched by the abuse that only a friend could give.
the only lie i ever told was the one about how i couldnt
believe there was so much wrong with

i could, and i do. god forgive me,
but i believe.

02/19/2004

Author's Note: for a friend who just had a relationship end in very, very uncool ways.

Posted on 02/20/2004
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams