Author S. K. Nicholas

All those you love, and all those you hate, dancing behind closed eyes. I’m not happy, and I’m not sad, I’m just waiting for the day when my words fall into place. One day, you’ll walk into my life, and I’ll walk into yours. Others settle for second best, but I’ll have nothing of it. Others sacrifice their childish dreams for mortality. They trade in their thirst for creation for a well-paying job and a mask that helps them fit in. I want no part of it. Ridicule means less than zero, and nor do ten thousand days of suffering and shame, for if it brings me what I desire, then so be it. Those around me think I’m lazy, but it’s just that all they hold dear interests me as much as a sexually transmitted disease. Their concept of life leaves me feeling bored and alone. And alone is all I’ve ever been. The world knows followers and talkers and fakers, yet rarely does it know a dreamer. Ignoring those awful Hollywood movies, to lead a life based on artistic merit over a desire for money and social acceptance is the slowest form of suicide going. So many fools and so few lovers. Too many tears and not enough cries of laughter as you ride the night into submission. Dance as I fall down drunk. Seduce as my eyes roll into the back of my skull. Ignite these dreadful towns and cities and fill them with the fumes of madness. Choke them with their own sense of worthlessness. Oh, doesn’t it make you smile when you see them chasing their own tails with such looks of satisfaction on their cracked faces. They settle down so quickly. They become so stale. But I’m only just getting started. The words grow as do the stories, and with each fantasy comes another pair of hips that has a taste for a monster on the cusp of understanding. This isn’t yesterday. It’s not even today. Take me out, and drive us someplace far away from the dirge that infects so readily. Breathe me in, and pass me out. Flutter like a heart that swims with the dolphins beneath ageless moons of silver and gold.