Fruit of Desire

I always make myself a fruit of desire. 

I squeeze myself dry, wringing the juice from my pulp into a glass, and spread that juice among a thousand people.

When the juice runs out, I wring the peel dry. I grate the peel on the juicer, shredding it to pieces. I don't understand why it hurts when I tear my flesh apart for a few more drops.

Why does the juice stop coming out when the flesh is gone? Surely I can squeeze more juice from the peel. Surely there's more juice. Surely I can give them something to drink. Where's the juice gone?


The peel is gone now. All that remains is a shredded pile of peel. I don't understand why it hurts. Will the fruit grow back? Even a hint of flesh and I start juicing again. I wish I could pluck a fresh fruit from the tree. But I guess then I wouldn't be the biggest fruit. 

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