Fruitless Apple Trees
Flickering flames dance around the steadily melting wax, prancing from wick to wick, glowing in a low orange light that is barely untouched by the wire apple tree next to it. Strung out limbs entangle as they spread from the braided base; shining metal wires stuck in forever only being a desk ornament perched upon a stack of books. No leaves, or flowers, or apples hang from the wires. Simple teeth baring disappointment mixes within a cauldron billowing over with stress, self-deprecation, and the possibility of unrequited feelings. Perhaps this is a metaphor, or maybe the only way I can describe the ever growing stone cold stress I feel? It could also be nothing or it could be a bullshitted assignment with no real meaning. All that is certain is that these words are words, created on a computer screen while 70’s and 80’s dance music blasts from a CD player across the room. And even then, maybe it isn’t.
