About

All hail the Queen... long live the King... and yet... the God is dead.

BUT NOT ME!

I am the new groove, the King, the Queen Mab...
I have killed the God and took its place!

My hand has been bitten, pulled apart, healed, and bitten again! And yet I persist, I spite... I make them more.

JUST TO CRUSH THEM!

TO SEE THEM SQUIRM, BEG... to try and rise up!

I am the maze, the Minotaur, and the thread that leads them out.
I am the feathers, the sun, the wax, and the fall!

I am the Sirens, the journey, and the Odyssey.

The gods, the God, the fallen heroes, risen villains, those remembered and those forgotten.

Oh, the stories... oh, the dreams...

Oh, to dream… MY NAME IS THE DREAM.

And what is a dream but a gentle nightmare?

And what is a nightmare but the vastness of the sea,

the oblivion of the universe, and...

 

the sheer stupidity of this whole thing?

 

Oh? I am overreacting?
Am I now?

My dear reader… tell me

 

how would YOU react if your own creations started haunting you?

 

Bit by bit, stripping away at your sanity and exposing the very essence of you

TO YOUR FACE IN THE MIRROR—

Staring deep inside your wretched little thing you call a soul.

How far the serpent reaches... and how deep it wiggles in!
The allure of its knowledge, the apple... the freedom...

The promises, the deals, the oaths.

 

Ooh, how poetic.

To think the one who creates is in control of their creation.

How tragic it is to live in such a cave.

For all life is a dream,

and dreams are only dreams.