Author S. K. Nicholas

I want to fuck you on the shores of Fukushima; to taste all that’s toxic about your body and damn myself in the process. Beer doesn’t work the way it used to. The memory of your face duller with every lover, my tendency for adultery’s hard to resist. It’s in the search for more lucid visions; it’s in these wild urges that cause me to implode time after time. The barricades go up with conviction only for some girl to come along with a pair of knowing eyes and ruin everything. Capitulation, disorder. We live to fall. Despite our best attempts, we seek the end with every breath. We long to leave this place behind and dance in the flames of destruction because it makes us feel real and allows us to see what we look like on the inside. Close your eyes. Walk the line. Find me in the aftermath of a car bombing and take me among the wreckage of twisted metal and severed limbs. Rub my face in oil as it pools at our feet. Bite my lip and carve your initials into my skinny wrists. In a single moment we come undone; in the time it takes to remove your bra the colony we once knew has already fallen into the sea. Dust and flies. Snow and distant promises as starvation sets in to the sound of your father’s howling. He’s a drinker just like me; only my hands are open not clenched. Trace my desire lines. Feed me your breast. Self-control to the sound of slashed throats. The freeway is a doorway to death, and your thighs a marker for my faith.