Author S. K. Nicholas

Scenes of a heavenly nature. Noire scorched by starlight as she widens to the sound of a hundred screaming hyenas. Stairwells soaked with blood. Footprints from my heart to hers. Soaked with sweat and clothes ripped to shreds, the circles grow bigger with every pill. Write some words of permanence, and then throw them away. Kiss and make up; drink to conjure what they say should never be said. Needles to make sense of birth, she’s sedated and covered with the stench of putrid wombs. They call her Eve, and her breasts always leave me blind. Her silhouette stretching high above the mountains; so many sleepless nights, so many pleasures they could never be sure of. Music is beautiful, but the poetry of your soul is something more. Together among the ashes of how we used to be, there’s only so much a man can take. Your lips move to the crashing sound of waves, then stillness. Other women. Country lanes on a Sunday as sickness rises from the basket by the side of your bed. Stomach acid to the fluttering of angel wings. Bile and darkness as streetlights sway in the storm. It keeps us company; it keeps us warm. Torn between two forces, there’s no escaping how lonely it is on the outside. It’s raining. Derelict phone booths to shelter us from yesterday. Everyone sees yet they never say a thing. How much you give is never known; they take what they want and never stick around when it matters most. Isolation my lubricant. Distance. Love. Insects so worthless as the great beyond teases like her fingers. With only the flashing lights of my mind to keep me company, there’s only faith when faith means nothing at all. To survive against the worst odds; it’s a victory no one will ever know. Closer to something they can never understand. Oh, these golden images, from shores to fields of corn, one day, one day you’ll find me there.