Author S. K. Nicholas

I crawl from the waters edge and lock myself in the toilet. I abuse myself thinking of your breasts as snakes slither beneath the door. There’s no shame in my actions, yet to reduce you tickles me with guilty pleasure. Such a cute little mouth, yet it stands for nothing as my imagination strips away all you worship with such aplomb. The tablets keep my fever at bay though I keep forgetting to take them and foam at the mouth whenever you’re around. The filters in my back pocket take away what’s real, but the music keeps drifting from your bedroom causing me to violently shake. Bottled beer and crumpled cigarettes. Bloodied noses and dirt under your fingernails. Eyes that search for mine and flesh that calls from the other side. Love for the weak-hearted. Love to soften the blow of another failed trip to your childhood. All those tears you cry as I convulse somewhere between the radiator and wardrobe. As rain lashes in through the open window, I watch with fascination as your shirt clings to your chest. For a second, I feel better and declare I’m okay to continue. You know my intentions, though, and put me to bed just the same. Words choke me; all they do is get in the way. To think of all the times I could’ve been laid but couldn’t string a decent sentence together. To think of the silence I so desperately needed yet was denied. Lay next to me and be still. Don’t say a thing, just look at the stars and tell me all of your dreams. Imagery drenched in sweat and ready for our signature act. Hush hush, they say. Pick your favourite memories and pluck your favourite vein. Create an illusion so I can do as I please. Gaze at the blank night, and lose yourself in all those shapes that can’t be seen.