the ugly writers


everyday, wanting it to rain with notions of walking barefoot on wet asphalt; lying down on a patch of wet, green grass
the ugly writers

Binukid Gothic

My neglected grave and tombstone engravings only know life in the forms of moss and vines, insects with more fleeting lifespans than mine was.

Diverged Misery

At the end You are alone With the memories Full of people Who left you In the darkness Of misery To sail in Their loneliness Alone