Before His Time

He was stood by the corridor on the train and it was full. Hundreds of equally bored commuters going to their boring jobs; all dressed in long coats, in suits, long dresses and all looked glum. But it was fine for Egg Head had his music on and it was maxed out. A woman wearing a gray trouser suit pushed past him. She glared at him and never even excused herself. Egg Head wouldn’t have heard her but he’d have seen her lips move.
the ugly writers

A Murder Of Reality

An unkindness in the lure a conspiracy craving more I cannot adapt, I’m sure! in this insanity I adore the murder of the flock the hands of the ticking clock I cannot tell if this is reality or if it’s not

My heart in 8 songs

I've been living under a rock for quite a while now. I'm old school when it comes to my playlist as I manually download songs I like and convert them in mp3 format. Even when Spotify came out in 2008, I remained loyal to my own painful process of procuring music. This is similar to how I treasure invisible scars of my failed relationships. At some point, I have thought of doing things differently but then I was so used to making bad choices that it became a norm.