Mythology of Moving

I am as Icarus, struggling to attain
with wide windows and open floor plans
it falls beneath and crumbles to ash
back from the Midas touch I tremble
desire path perfectly worn among emerald
now dusty remains of potential life
it coats everything and won't come clean
so I move backward and down, a sorry Atlas,
cuddled among the shadows, the roaches,
wondering how to conquer the hills
and waiting for something to repair my wings.