Snakes in the etching ground,
We float around, itching for the action,
Kissing stars and aching windows crush,
I take down the apple,
Cut the tree in half.
Velvet press of morning,
A silken flag of forever settling
Over my skies of Eden.
Temptation rots in my heart gloom,
A crushed seed of promises
Licking wounds and settling in the earth,
To grow a slow and strangled death.
What if I had choked the snake,
And cut down the tree…?
What punishment then, would have been given to me?