the ugly writers


I don’t think I can ever stop myself anyway So, I wave my hand as we drift away Your back turned toward me as I watch you fade Oblivious. Yet that's for the better.

Metronome Reality

And so my friend you now comprehend why writing is a track where the end spells lack. Like a metronome’s pendulum poetry is a medium that keeps me going down this track and coming back!


But even if her gaze was just as fuzzy as his She can still see How wonderful he is His face His grace His smile His dimples His mannerisms