---

No gardens, 

no serpents— 

just an apartment with peeling paint, 

a fridge that hums like a tired god. 

Adam scrolls his phone, 

searching for meaning in algorithms. 

Eve stares out the window, 

wondering if freedom tastes like 

black coffee or the sound of rain. 

The apple is a neon sign, 

“Open 24 Hours,” 

and they wander in, 

hands empty but hearts full of questions. 

Knowledge isn’t forbidden anymore— 

it’s commercialised, 

streamed, 

liked and shared. 

And still, 

the ache remains: 

Who are we, 

and who do we want to be? 

They don’t leave Eden— 

they build it. 

 

A fragile utopia of mismatched dreams, 

There’s no exile, 

only a gentle forgetting, 

As dreams dissolve into morning alarms. 

---

Carl Scharwath, has appeared globally with 180+ journals selecting his writing or art. Carl has published four poetry books and his latest book is “The World Went Dark,” published by Alien Buddha Press. Carl has four photography books, published with Praxis and CreatiVingenuitiy. His photography was exhibited in the Mount Dora and Leesburg Centers for the Arts. Carl is currently an art editor at Glitterati and former editor for Minute Magazine. He was nominated with four The Best of the Net Awards (2022-25) and two different 2023 Pushcart Nominations for poetry and a short story.