I have tasted the sweetness of a fruit that no one has had the courage to expel. It is the fruit that with such flavor brought down the world and created the hell that burns us with its tongue of desire. Oh, to have a bite is a simple delight. The teeth caress its surface like a kiss in a faraway memory. Soft, harsh, whispery, and erotic is the juice that flows inside the mouth, a treacherous ally. The shape, the feeling, the color, the sin, such as a sin hidden behind the cape of trees that snakes make home of. The chewing intensifies the pleasure, a sweet taste, the roughness of edges. To twirl the tongue around, searching for every last bit, like Romeo and Juliet twisting in their love affair. A fight, a battle, a struggle to resist. Yet such a fruit has an intent in mind; freedom of will or a will of sorts. Freedom I suppose it’s merely a concept. Had Eve not eaten the apple she would have been considered a saint. As it happens she did. Who to blame then; Eve or the apple? Have we not the power to decide after we eat? Have we ever blamed the chicken for murder? Or the broccoli for theft? No. Yet because it is an apple, oh such a sweet and delicious apple, the troubles shall be blamed upon it and its captors. Moonlight approaches as I look upon the basket of apples set forth by Satan himself. He sits and smiles waiting for me to succumb once more. Sex, theft, murder; all are set in front of my fingertips and I wonder which one will I succumb to today, for there is no doubt in my mind that I shall. The temptation is too great.