Artless constellation

It’s broken light and bittered words and evening rendered innuendos, wisdoms in the shattered bulbs’ unbalanced sense of calm; it’s glass and shadow glints to graft an epitaph for afternoon in passive drifts of spoken verse, slipping into dusk these uttered edges sparked and haywire and quivering despite the cold; it’s sleepless swings of apathetic waves and whitecaps painted red to burn through voltage failing, fallen days and paling moments glossed with thin veneers florescent in the overcast; it’s simple light put out in lieu of tinder wire and cable flames, and its the echo of a moonlit night beneath the blue-black surface striking effigies and angst in all these ripples easing past.

It’s art in artistry and feeble constellations, constant myths and ceilings plastered white.

#Melbourne #Australia

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