Making something from nothing.
Although, we never actually have nothing, we always have something.
So what am I doing?
Just hanging out.
Painstakingly peeling red apples with knives sharpened on the back of other knives.
Without the glossy skin, the bruises become evident. And underneath, it’s rotten to the core.
I have never seen such a pretty apple; I have never adored one so; I have never seen one so rotten. Wet.
I have never seen such a thing in my life, as three, blind, mice.
I eat it. I’m the kind of person who licks the knife blade clean.