Hiding in my shell
Naked to the outside world
Tears to wash away
Want
How I crave to taste the forbidden fruit. It’s only human nature, but I know I’ll find out that its subtle impurities will kill me. I can only imagine the way it would feel. Choking me. Toying with my neurons, changing them. Ashes hitting the tips of my shoes. It’s wrong. I can’t and I know it, but my will power is weakening. The foundation of my knowledge is slowly being overtaken by the roots of curiousity. Once they sprout, I am a goner.
I can still feel the air conditioning against my exposed arms, giving me goosebumps as I listen to two women talk about ingredients meant to corrupt. Ingredients that will weigh me down. Ingredients that will inevitably hurt me. I’ve heard that particular cough too many times that it is imprinted on my mind. Why would I want to sound like that? The answer: I wouldn’t. I see the pictures of innocent dogs forced together into chambers. Masks over their muzzles with the look of fear in their eyes. We know what this will do to them and yet I still wish to find out for myself.
I remember the two pig lungs meant to show what could happen to us. The right: big, healthy, pink. The left: small, wimpy, black. I imagine what my grandfather’s lungs must look like. I wonder if he too will succumb to the possible outcome like so many others. I know he did not know, but that gives no excuse to me.
I thought this would never happen.
