So it’s been a while! I remember through years past how open you once were… pressing me for childhood tales and stories about my workday. I recall the hours of bickering spent on the topic of my coldness and unwillingness to open my world to your curious mind. I will never forget the feeling of my own frigid shoulder against the prying stranger who desired the Real Me in the name of True Closeness. Leave no stone unturned… that was your way.
There was no need for pretense then. Your blatant intrusion served one purpose: to squirrel away my secrets as ammunition. To have some piece of me to run away with when it was no longer convenient to carry my burdensome weight around like an overstuffed duffel bag. A getaway later to be held as a trophy. A piece of land to put your flag in and later declare uninhabitable. Perhaps that was premature assumption… or maybe just preformed defense… but I know now that it is how I made you and how I should have remained.
You made (renamed) me Safely Antarctica.
But I foiled you. Sociopath vs. Awareness. You, keeper of secrets, I am onto you. Perhaps it may have been wiser to take more from you while you were warm and complacent and seeking… before my coldness discouraged and bought me the now accursed and indistinct amount of time left to spend with you… maybe I’d stand a chance. Now that I know you are worthy of every last misery that has befallen you, I wish I could contribute adequately. I had the chance and I squandered it. Now, all that is left are elephants and skeletons filling the spaces where I should be able to rest my head in repose.
It is crowded here. In this frozen and barren landscape, evolution creates monsters.
The dance of a thousand abominations has commenced.
The lies, the secrets, the many versions of you and I…
they stare and brood with smoldering eyes,
stand and sway to the rhythm of
dying stars,
spin and swirl on an icy dance floor…
lay down and
[heatbreedingmelt]
BURST
through frozen then earthy miles into a molten core…
begin again.
Write-fight… it always comes to this. My words against a silent and unknowing reality-version of you. Your liquid nitrogen dousing the Ice Queen, while I throw flames at your ashes. Damages to damages, consequence propagating consequence, action-reaction-action-reaction-neverendingcycle. And neither you or I will ever have a name… in the end, it will be that-time-when-those-years-went-by. The beat was always off. Step one-two, one-two, two, two, (would be three if we had more feet), one, one, one, one, onetwooneonetwo.
toecrusher
See, I can name you… and you, and you, and you… so many variations, I’m sure I’ll stumble on exposure soon enough…
The consequence is that, eventually, you’ll probably do me the same injustice…
