Author S. K. Nicholas

In a darkened room, my body was illuminated by slithers of light shining in through the window. I was naked, smoking a cigarette, and watching the town shimmer in the distance. I imagined them out on the streets, in the bars and clubs, their bodies electric. A girl, some lover, some sense of cheapness I wanted more than anything. Not love, no talk of souls or romance, only the need of being a man, of being human. To fuck. No gods. No poems or justice. No visions of the future nor intellectual prowess, just the insatiable desire to grab that girl and teach her a lesson. My pain and suffering a rage upon her sex. To grab her throat, to clench her thighs within my hands and push myself into the realm of limbo. A thousand stars dissolving beneath my touch, and fingertips picking at the itch deep within my spine. Don’t ask me questions, just peel back your skin and let me see what there is inside. Breathing in a lungful of smoke, I drank until the walls crumbled. Saliva and perfume. Prisms. I desperately long to get back to the womb, for it’s the only place I’ve ever felt safe. You can’t control the urge, yet you can understand it. That little slice of death- oh, what it feels like to disappear, to become one with nothingness once more. Take a taxi ride to where she resides, and imagine her being taken by another. It makes your eyes turn black, but when you get there, you don’t disappoint. I’m getting old, though, my bones aching more every day. I’m one of the dead; that’s the reason I long so much to feel the pleasures of the living. My mind is a labyrinth of confusion and ghosts that haunt at every turn. Rivers, swamps. My teeth ache from too much alcohol. My brain hurts from thinking too much, and no matter how hard I try, nothing seems to make sense anymore. Bring me release. Bring me the taste of what it feels like to evaporate completely. Take me to the deadlights. Take me to the place where I become one.