Author S. K. Nicholas

You can escape the slums and replace them with beaches, yet you’re still the same old girl running from the same old fears. Locations take our breath away, but underneath it all, it’s just a charade. What good is something that can never speak? Golden sunsets send a shiver down my spine, but in the face of death, they’re worthless. I am the universe, yet it’s not enough. The landscape of cities and paradise that others adore are simply too dull; each road leading to the same predictable destinations. The journey can be bright, but if there’s no fight- if there’s no resistance, then what’s the point? I need to read more. Need to get laid. Bodies don’t excite, though; it’s about a dance of minds. It’s in the chaos of ravaged hearts looking for salvation in darkened dreams. I think I want to meet you on a train journey to the end of the world. With bombs destroying every inch of what we know, I want to take you in a toilet cubicle. I want to slip into the afterlife while grabbing hold of your breasts and biting your shoulder. Each thrust a knife to life. Each motion of conjoined hips easing our passage to the great beyond. Let me whisper in your ear; let the words come as I do. Seize the day. Turn your face and place your mouth on mine. As we share our bodies, a million wars will claim a billion lives. The human race as insects; disposable clumps of goo in the image of no one. Yet we rage against the dying light, and beneath the gaze of oblivion’s eye, we entice death. We want to taste what it feels like, and we want it now.