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
the ugly writers

Aerokinesis

Nothing ever remains unknown. We know this. Sooner or later, the winds will change with us, and us with it.