Author S. K. Nicholas

We all praise the great deceivers. We all shine a light on the one and all. Bland little piggies falling by the wayside. No sincerity just comfort when comfort comes calling alone and betrayed. The world disappeared. Nowhere in sight, it fell into the big empty and never recovered. Such boredom when faced with broken promises. Such insignificant eyes when aligned with those that showed us the way. Partly fiction. A walking contradiction. Partly alive. Banished with the wolves at the door. I can taste electrons and fear. Lust and confusion. On your flesh I dismiss expectancy. Milk white innocence when innocence is so severely lacking. Stuff your reservations, and fuck your beliefs. Bow down to dishonesty. Grapple with hypocrisy. Slurred speech and morphine. Needle in the bed. Demons in your head. Silver bullets to take you away from all of your pain. There are no connections between us. You absolved your throne. Obsolete machines, so lacking in anything worthwhile. We all detest the great schemers. We pour oil on their fires and watch as they burn. Flickering lights and cigar smoke. The town so pretty from high up. All those lights. All those dreams. Up in the air, and never to return. Theodore Robert Bundy. The American Lover. We are what you make us. We are all gods children. Seasons unresolved. Reflections blurred.