A Devil on Both Shoulders

 
 
 
Any minute now now ..  
 
Watch his sense of self control find itself dampened, gradually, as the humid breath of persuasive anarchy condenses along the fibers of "right & wrong" .. Soon completely saturating the fabric of his thoughts; individual drops of desire are harmless... But can lead to a frothing pool of desire if left unchecked.  
 
.. & they've remained unchecked for  
 
quite  
  some  
     time ..  
 
& His mind is now marinating in a witches brew of tempting whispers.
 
A fire-sale at the Garden of Eden; everything must go. There is, however, one thing that isn't for sale -- the one thing nobody's aloud to touch.  
 
Drip  
Drip  
Drip go the drops of temptation ...  
 
 
curiosity is known best for its talents at being a cumbersome pest & now stands unchallenged as it slowly begins to infect the garden of his mind, Eventually spreading like an overgrowth of destructive weeds ...
 
 - the lilacs find themselves overtaken by crabgrass -  
 
The gentle, suggestive whispering is as constant as it is convincing ..  
 
"Just one bite.."  
 
His desires become fires and rage uncontrollably; crawling along the foundations of his conscience, slithering up the kindling foundations of his mind. He's defenseless as his reason is replaced by ash and the lazy breeze of defeat.  
 
"Escape the Garden with another bite, perhaps?"
 
Where once was weeds there is now only water; adrift atop an endless ocean of his own temptations.
Each and every bite he takes is, at first, savory, but then reveals itself as a sobering reminder of just how lost he has become. The way home,  
 
 
his True North,  
 
he now realizes, will remain forever hidden amongst the crashing of the waves and the fleeing horizons..  
 
"Another piece of fruit?"  
 
Further into the endlessness of the open water, labyrinthian in its complexity & lacking in good company. Aimless & with no ambition to rekindle himself with a time before he was kidnapped by temptation & held captive by weakness .. Solely to blame for tying the knot on his own blindfold so tightly, leaving him unable to navigate the complexities of his cage..  
 
he desperately tries to remember the soothing scent of home..  
 
 
The sounds of the shoreline  
 
 
 
The comforting warmth of the beach  
 
 
 
& His footprints in the sand..  
 
 
 
 
He wishes again to catch fire, but be fueled, this time, by the desperate cries, begging himself to erase the memory of when he first became acquainted with the indescribably delicious taste of the fruit that now causes the compass of his mind to spin counter-clockwise.  
 
 .. But he has yet to discover any smoke from his smoldering strength rising .. No flickering light tower ..  
 
Still No North Star.  
 
& No beacon guiding.  
 
.. Hope has become the ocean floor; even though he knows it exists, he's drifted too far out to sea making it impossible to reach.