Comparing Peaches to Pies

I look at everyone else’s work on here and I get jealous that my mind doesn’t work like theirs and that I somehow failed to express myself on this one topic this one way this one day wearing this one sweater and then I remove the sweater I’m currently wearing because I’ve pissed myself off to the point that I’m hot and then I realize I just had a cup of chili and that’s probably why my body temp sky rocketed and then the next idea that dawns is that I’m being fucking silly.

There are peaches, ideas ripe from the vine, bursting forth summer juices or spring rain saved up in the meat, all sticky. There are pies, thoughts fully baked, taken out just at the right time so the crust is perfect ,appropriately braided and situated and it looks the way it should look. Thoughts that are done, the timer going off, the pencil is down. Ready to read and be considered. With ice cream.

Sometimes you want a peach, raw and organic. Sometimes you want a pie, fire toasted and hot after an hour long bake.

How can I say what are peaches and what are pies and what is wanted? I simply grow and bake and let the world taste what they want. Just beware of the rotted fruit though even those are examined like science projects, fascinating and disgusting, but you cant look away.
You cant look away

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