I tasted dark, ripe fruits,
The plum-red stain dyed
Crimson on my tongue - rebelliously sweet,
Sweeter than honey
Dripping from the comb.
I bathed my face, my body in it-
But instead of Satisfaction-Craving;
It seeped into my bones
My marrow stank with it.
Enough! Enough! I cried
But once tasted Hunger cannot be sated-
The curse encompasses Touch
The cells know the Master
And they obey- they obey!
How strange-then- infant fruits shall grow
One morsel-Satisfaction find-
Once crushed upon the ground the curse confined-
The reek of rotting fruit-
The soil fertile grows-
And makes a ruby stain
That waters thirsty ground.
