...bedlam boys, once again.

I asked the bard and he says that yes, this connection to insanity was there before, that I danced this tune before, that it's only I who forgot it...

...or perhaps that's just how I took his words. I shall have to ask him.

Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys, bedlam boys...

...bedlam...

...so perfect, this moment of nothing but text and song and gods, the colors... I've drenched my skin in shades of blood and lust and sunset, enough ink to make my blood flow thicker, tasting each as I laid it in place. Rich color... comfort, the color becomes.

Silence from the bard.

Still, I sing... when no one else listens or when everyone does, it makes no real difference.

*purrs* He speaks now, bedlam, with daggers and dreamings. I wonder if he remembers the flashes I've thought on today. I wonder if he remembers seeing insanity somewhere in my eyes. I wonder if he remembers the times when it was words, as it is right now, words and waiting and this hollow hunger that I could never really describe.

Bedlam.

...and they want no drink, nor money...

...I shall post this, and talk with him. He makes me feel at least somewhat alive in this world, right now.