Fruit for my mind

Sown to the brittle bones
Of a beggar and his wife
Lived 60 years of torment
In my 20 years of life
Being reminded again of the goodtimes
Doesn't help scramble the rubbles of shyte
But you are not me, and cannot possibly comprehend
All my monsters, I had to fight

Legs tied to the tracks
Spills and cheap thrills plaster my soul
Scabs stuck on my knees
Mind on lust fed for awhile
For the lack
Of another beings touch

Spring forth in all its sorrow
In rich clusters, forming on a tree
Feeds the roots from discarded goodtimes
Fades into the funnel

Why dont you pick and eat it
Then why dont you lust for more
Bitter the poison to the lips clasp
Bright red apples in torments fast
Runs down easily to the throats treat
But kills the body as the mind eats