the ugly writers

prognosis

I trespass into the world beyond the living in this mindscape, i see him— a deep entanglement in a chasm of nothingness; faceless, he sits, he waits
cotton candy

Cotton Candy

There is no store to taste the cloud candy everyone have bought I want one too, even just a little bite of that fluffy sweet pink swirls you've indulged Perhaps, the fire destroyed the store and the water washed down the swirls