the clock is running. she's speaking, tentative. she's only got eleven minutes to present the story. it's not enough time. confident now: three minutes left.
climbing to every new height, spiralling upwards on a steep incline. lay goals out, make them insurmountable and refuse to budge until the task is budged.
steal power from uneven sources, climb a tower and throw lightning bolts trying to exceed a limit. dance in a storm, feel electricity crackle around your body. (the limit is your own imposed perception)
smooth polished wood and broken-in book spines contrast with the rough-hewn stone. trapped behind glass, playful flames hide true lethality. (just as long as there's kindling)
something's amiss here; your shadow trails me. mirror to mirror, i see you stalling time, freezing motion. we're both trapped here now.
the night is young, wild; tonight i have freedom to do as i please. create or destroy my only instruction. electricity thrums through the air, my veins - endless possibility. i'll do both.
see here: the earth, warped mountains flipped, the sky's stalactites, and oceans frozen above. tread carefully on the sky, brush your fingers over stars and watch for the moon setting.
you told me always: tiny vial of potion, glittering, enticing - too tempting to turn down. too easy (foolish) to reach out, wrap clumsy fingers around thin glass. (the elixir sparkled, burned going down; burned away all your lies about always.)
embattled and torn, wings tattered and broken; glass, shattered and sparkling. these are the hallmarks of a daring (f a i l e d) attempt.
elegance is your favourite; intelligence is mine, on permanent loan. grace is what you gifted me (not-so charitably). i repaid it with humility, hid in silence and facades. then there's that secret plus-one (or m o r e) - yet neither of us acknowledge it.