I think bananas are poisonous —
just like every other fruit.
Start with the peel:
a soft yellow warning label,
organic and dangerous,
folded around cryptic flesh.
You think it’s harmless,
but it hides history—
coded symbols,
a secret too sweet to swallow.
Ask the pharaohs.
Ask the government.
They won’t tell you,
because everything is dangerous
if you look at it from the wrong angle.
Or maybe the right one.
Apples are healthy.
That’s what they say.
But eat enough,
and even your insides start to freeze,
tighten into something unforgiving.
But they’re healthy, right?
Right?
The truth is:
everything needs a little moderation —
including the interpretation of banana peels,
the consumption of apples,
and revolutions.
Yes, revolution.
A word so sharp you could slit your ego with it.
Complex. Ugly. Glorious.
I’d kill to know what it really means.
Not the classroom meaning.
Not the poster.
The real one —
the one that lives under your skin
when you’ve had enough of “everything is fine.”
The one that grows teeth
when you start asking why the fruit tastes like gasoline
and the sun smells like performance.
I’m not afraid.
I’m just confused.
And maybe that’s more dangerous than poison.
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