Picking Apples

The end comes in soft footsteps rather than heavy hammers. These grave titans. Their thumbs on our spines. Make us dance. Make us bow. Grace us with lives not ours to live.

The dead do remember. The color of the sky when. The paralyzed still see. The machines meant to keep them alive. Mercy comes in numbers. Justice is calculated in dollar signs.

I'm going to sleep she warns. Leave me until this is over. I'm not fighting. Let us die. Consume each other. Let the future find us. As the cannibals we've always been.

Let's not wait for the drug she begs. But I have to see the end. I've waited so long. I can wait a little longer.

How am I to sleep now? Gentle dungeons calm the slaves. Virtual prisons disarm the servants. Embrace the broken glass. Let it into your veins. I've breathed on this window for so many years. I owe to it to try to see.

Let's leave this god forsaken Eden together. There are plenty of apples out there that we've yet to bite.