Author S. K. Nicholas

Aching heads. Imploding bellies. Torn throats from shards of soundless glass. Blown lullabies upon her broken spine. Ashes fall from grey skies. They dance in the air just out of reach. Empty buildings strewn across landscapes old and humble. Ghost towns inhabited by the braindead. Motherfuckers one and all. Cats drinking milk in the cold. Dogs barking with envious eyes. Destinations faded on a bus timetable. Attached to a lamppost it speaks to no one. Hasn’t done in years. It stands as a testament to past times. Unrealities that feel as if they never were. Away from it all the world ceases to turn. Isolated and cocooned, the days remain the same. English desperation. Universal agitation. Half a man. Unseen insides. Together in myth we suspend disbelief. No need to betray faith, just fall into my arms. Don’t waste yourself in hate, just walk towards the sun. Nails driven through flesh. An orchestra of screaming children. Burning schools and broken skulls in the playground. Clouds blood red. A crimson ceiling where dreams descend. With ease they fall, just like your tears. We’re all fakers today. Everyone of us a whore for more. Beauty doomed beyond adolescent innocence. Mountains destroy bees. Icebergs crush sandcastles. Illness reigns supreme. To endure and not enjoy. Fractured viewing lens as my hands fall off not knowing what to do next. Sexless phantoms. An abyss for every day of the week. A recipe for death by distinction. Extinction in every pore, we come apart like stretched tissue. Stubbed cigarettes piled high in the gutter. Lethargy through caffeine withdrawal. Sickness where health should be. Wretched humans never learning from all those footsteps left in the sand. Mistakes are praised. Regrets spun like spinning plates. Monsters imagined where image is feared. Facial features known, but the soul too much to bear.