you dance like a queen...

You speak to me in riddles
You speak to me in riddles
Is something on your mind?
Hands as cold as ice she says
Tell me about your secret life
And all the things you've seen
Tell me what you think of me.
<3

When does meaning become meaningless? When does the actor stop trying and start letting go? Where is the point when you have poured so much of yourself into something that your very reflection is empty? And what does that make you? A revolution without a cause? A shell without a hope?

God dammit.

Don't tell me it was all charades. i won't take that answer. i looked into your riddiculously beautiful eyes and i saw it. i saw it so blatant that it rendered me absolutely powerless. Am i that stupid?! That foolish that i could take what i believed was something and put faith in it? Because don't lie to me, don't do me the dishonor and injustice of pretending, because i know better. For a moment. For one single moment there was something.

And maybe i was just the fool for pouring myself into a bottomless jar, hoping one day i could fill it to the brim. Maybe i should have been like the rest of the mindless ants and keep walls close to my being and hide down in a shell of machines and cold fogged up windows. Maybe i shouldn't have risked it and let the sunlight seep into the chill for just a moment, before the responding burn begged me to pull back into the shadows and lick my wounds.

So what do i do now? The first taste of blistering from sun i couldn't handle, the first time i can relate to the fallen Icarus and feel the ecstasy he must have drowned in as he plummetted into the deep sleep. Do i put my antennae down and march mindlessly, hiding in the fog again?

Fuck it all.
i'll go down with my wings on fire.
Wait for me, Icarus. Here i come.