dust swirls down from

endless ceilings

canvas hanging like laundry out to

dry and

vertically they plummet

crush me beneath their majesty

but I focus on the shimmer

dust creates dreams

beneath the pools of warm light

olive greens and

romantic shades of pink

and I wait.

drowning in fabric and cheap

paint and heat and

the audience is silent and I am

invisible

only two eyes peering

out from behind the careful rubble

jagged staples

works of art

and she sings.

she sings behind the makeup and

old hats and

blinding lights

to people she will never meet nor see again but

her heart is on the stage

and I am too.

the lights dim to nothing and the floor rumbles

and I wake up from the dream

When the forbidden fruit's juice dripped from the mouths of Adam and Eve, humanity didn't simply fall.

It rose.

Beyond blissful ignorance, beyond what we thought we knew, what we didn't even know we didn't know.

Out of the grips of old gods and scheming prophets, out into the unknown void.

Out of toxic traditions and questionable judgement, out to break free from them all.

We began to understand. Think for ourselves.

Create. Destroy.

Learn. Forget.

Acend. Descend.

Transcend.

We have opened our eyes, but some chose to close them back up.

Out of fear. Hatred. Confusion. Disgust.

We all have a choice: the blessing and curse of knowledge, or peace of mind.

Taking the leap or shying away from the edge.

Have you eaten chosen to eat this fruit, or are you afraid of falling?

He laid her down in the backseat, coat off and on the floor in the middle of winter. And I wish I could tell you that the sunroof was open, that she saw stars flying by on their drive. I wish I could tell you that everything was alright. She sees dark until she comes to, bright lights of a parking garage sting her eyes. She thinks of sun and the beach, anything to warm her up. His hands are in her hair, on her face, pulling at her mouth as she pulls away. And I wish I could tell you that everything was alright. She doesn’t open her eyes again until morning, but she is crying before she wakes up. Tears cloud her vision as he hovers over her. Words won’t form, but as she pulls her dress over her head she chokes out “why”. A car is out front, he doesn’t even bother to put his clothes back on. She lays down in the backseat, but the driver doesn’t seem to mind. Opens her mouth in a silent scream. And I wish I could tell you that everything was alright.