Author S. K. Nicholas

timeless like time. fearful of every little thing. it’s out of my control. yet it creeps up my spine without me even looking. starless. so many stars yet none of them know my name. they should, yet life is cruel that way. grinding teeth in my sleep. sticking my thumb down the back of my throat drawing blood. seasons passing like old shows on television. birds of a feather. they flock together. so much history. so much pain. stoned to death. cut to death. plans that come to nothing. naught. scratches on the palm of your hands. wine. cigarettes. piss filled bottles of shame. burnt toast and worms. one foot in the grave whilst soaking in the bath. fingers creased and ears submerged. sunday mornings drifting like leaves on trees from my window to yours. god complex. faith in stretched interiors. cruelty so beautiful to the worthless. how they yearn for the damned. those pleasures so low like torture. dogs on fire. children butchered. talking to flowers out of absence. the same old shit despite the changing faces. from coast to coast. middle feelings so assured. vanishing beauty, suffered integrity. the lone man. the lonely insides of the one born to deny. things used to be so easy, now everything just floats on by. driftwood in a storm. presumed illness. ignored like gravestones. the passage that has to be taken. you wont even realise until you’re on the other side. all that boredom. all those wasted hours.