Author S. K. Nicholas

They say they mean it, but offer them a way out and they’ll surely take it. They say they believe in love, yet look at how easy it is for them to fall into the arms of another. Such wonders to be found in the glory of chaos. Such bewilderment in simply being. Yet the horrors they have committed will stain the traces of their existence long after they fade out of view. Brief flashes of brilliance, of something more than just chemicals. Made of star stuff and conditioned to be machines, they shine for a while before accepting their fate. They worship false idols. They bow down to currency. Let the fuckers burn. Let them shriek in despair as they realise their mistakes when it’s all too late. Hold your grudges. Practice what you never preach. When you’re dead and gone, no one will remember what you meant because you kept it all locked in your head. Your regrets will remain silent, and your truths will shrink quicker than a promise uttered under the influence of one too many fevered egos. Curl up in the safety of your bed, and tell yourself that everything will be okay. That tomorrow will never come, and that immortality is your birthright. Trick yourself into thinking he’ll stick around once things head south. Relationships built on lust, well, they go exactly where you think they go. Take off that dress and step into the sun. Place your hand in mind, and travel to a state of mind no one else could dream of. Be something more than a product; than a pawn in a game of give and take. Nature, reduced to a system. Hearts, no more than symbols for the dim. Feel the hysteria in my broken voice. Feel the rage as my hips crash against yours. Dig your nails into my back and hear me howl. Animals. Relics. Perfect spheres of what can never be understood.