Gouged Passion

 

It tempted me with its scent,
Leading me by the nose, I grumbled
But I went along to the tune that crazed my mind.

A red, plump fruit
Begging to be split open
And its essence gouged,
I took a sharp knife and spun
The being in my hands-
Strategizing the best way
To split it open with great precision.

But with a sudden strike,
A graceful, fluid movement
That would have made the gods applaud,
I took the tip of the knife
And split the top open horizontally,
Red juices gushing out
As I cut through without mercy.
Splatters of red rain,
spare droplets saturating as it stains
A sticky crimson staining the
tip of my knife, I stepped back from my carving
And licked the sharp edge of the knife,
A zesty, sweet taste drenching my tongue
In different shades of red.
Eager to proceed, I made four sharp cuts
In the sphere, seeds petrudeing from
their dormancy. A dorm filled to the brim
with gushing red seeds, I rested my knife
to the side and swooped into the parted sides,
gouging the seeds from their tentative slumber.

Warm, wet seeds stain my fingers crimson,
A crime of passion, a masterpiece
splayed across salty flesh, I rolled the seeds
between my deft fingers, popped them into my
mouth in glee.
Sublime!
I have now tasted the product of heaven and hell,
spring and death,
Full circle, I dipped my fingers into the flesh.
Nails scratching as I searched for more ambrosia.
An odd feeling tickled my throat and
my stomach locked as if needing a key to the safe yet
I continued on with my feast, red staining my cheeks.
I had the greatest urge
to take a finger and paint the surface of my skin.

Coated in the juices, I rejoiced as my head spun, smiling and laughing,
I danced, did a little spin.
By then I realized something is undeniably wrong;
my throat had closed up,  eyes watery,
and tongue itchy, but I could not forget the taste of the seeds.
I refused to pause in my gluttony.

Am I Persephone,
hoodwinked into being tied to the Underworld
by the temptation of a fruit? Or am I Eve
as she took a bite into the vengeful apple
from the Tree of Good and Evil?
I now lay on my bed,
crimson stuck to my lips, teeth, and cheeks,
hands, fingers, and forearms,
like a macabre painting,
I close my eyes as my body bares arms against the enemy.
Raging my body in a reluctant war, I
swallow a pill, delighted when my world goes black.

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