Meet Me

You told me of your dreams And I told you everything About joy and hurt and love gone dim You only smiled and pulled me near I still love that you were the one Who could chase away my fear
the ugly writers

The Sun

because when it comes to the sun to see its blaze its entrancing beauty its captivating form its comforting warmth its... it hell, it's all so worth it
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
the ugly writers

Spaces

I still walk down lonely corridors hoping to find you on my next turn. You are never there waiting for me. I hear you whispering my name more often than I care to admit.