Muse 71: On the Line

found via ahmebertiee

"You'll get electrocuted," he cried out as Amelie climbed the ropes. Her limbs, trained by the awkward career of pole dancing, were nimble as she maneuvered smoothly with no regard to the danger. As she shook the ropes, the birds flew away. They flew straight towards the sky as Amelie twisted her body among the wires. Somehow she fit right on top, the wires supported her weight, and she sat like a queen over a nest. His worries faded as he stood below her in awe. She could fall so easily but she never did.

Muse 11: Hot Like Fire

While the moments were dutifully reminisced through hours of replay in the dark cavern of her mind, she suddenly remembered that someone once said, "Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I've ever known." And somehow that was how she understood that love is nothing but a composite of feelings. Nothing of love is original. It is agony. It is joy. It has purity; it enforces evil. It multiplies while decreases. It is hot and cold. Easy and difficult. It is when you fly through the sky on wings made of wax, trying to reach the sun because it burns so beautifully. She whispered right before she fell asleep, "Love is sweet, sweet masochism. " No one has ever survived flight except those who don't return.