Today, my name is bedlam, and I etch its letters aimlessly upon these calmest hues of sunset, the place where rust horizons lose their voices and resign to bruise-blue depths before they pass.

Tomorrow, I’ll be violence in the dew that pearls on flower blooms to counterfeit a morning for the capsized glimpse of order that it feigns, some bastard jewel staining silver breaths of brand new moments all too understood. For every day my name is wicked written with the warmth and light, and every night I question if the moon might wash the strain away. But evening comes, and jade to fall like ether speaks with haste my name upon its teeth again to spell my sickness.

#Melbourne #Australia

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