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…
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.
the ugly writers

Summer

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.