Author S. K. Nicholas

Spitting blood into the toilet, I inspect my teeth, but none are loose. Pissing to drown everything around me, the ache in my lower back is momentary. Acid reflux and the landscape of nude women that wave from afar. Night sky so shiny as you smile like you don’t know who I am. Elevate all your fears as the fridge contains nothing but sour milk and week-old chicken. Panic as if love were dead when there’s no more beer, only you’ve got wine, so everything will be okay. In control of all things, you light a cigar and stand in the garden looking up at the stars. One day, it will all make sense. Lay on your side, and hibernate until you’re ready. Stay submerged in the bath until you’re able to say what you mean to say. Stood behind her, I lift up her top. Hands on her breasts, I don’t have any excuses. It’s not love, just a passion to be a debaser. See the whites in my eyes. Say something useful, but I’m already gone. You did this to me, so don’t act hurt. Don’t feel sorry for yourself when we exist in what can only be described as the outer layers of tailor made hell.