I'm buried under my own
Acatalepsy
And dying to dig myself
Out

Of a grave watered with knowledge and filled
With worms from teachers'
Apples

And I don't think Eve knew exactly how
Poisonous
Knowledge
Is

And I don't know that Snow White wasn't
Her incarnated stupidity

Because
As intelligent as we are and as curious
As we are

There's so much we don't know the more
We know, so
That each inch I manage to climb
Towards the
Sunlight

Is mocked by the two you've shoveled
On top

And this ever growing distance makes no more
Sense than the fathomless
Abyss
Below me.