Author S. K. Nicholas

Psalms for those lacking in minerals; a summer of warm beer and handjobs to ease the passage from lost to found. My favourite breast- my favourite taste as you bend backwards bleeding from the knees and reciting the letters of the alphabet in reverse. I want to take you again, but the air in my lungs is running out. Too many cigarettes, and too much self-abuse while thinking back to moments of teenage voyeurism. Growing agitated, I desire to cut your clothes into tiny pieces so you may never leave, so leave me to it and go shower. The more you stick around, the angrier I become. You’re a good girl at heart, yet your body betrays you. Let me do my thing and lay the blame on that cherub face of yours. It’s so pretty, but beauty repulses me; that’s why you need to be broken, it’s the only way you’ll ever learn. Under the world; under your skin. So many secrets kept within. I’m closed-mouthed, so I write it down to get it out. For you, it’s about escaping into another’s embrace; it’s about losing yourself in the mouth of death and feeling nothing at all. After we make love, I want us to watch a lynching together, but you say you’re not in the mood, so I watch it alone while you go to sleep. To see the look on their faces; to see the horror in their eyes knowing the end is about to come. Such evil creatures we are. Such despair in how we inflict against our own kind. Rock and bones in Africa. The agony of the fall beneath a boiling sun. The curse of what we are staining the soil- oh, how it shames me to call myself a man. With each last breath the baying mob cheer; with each wound they inflict, they rejoice in the glory of it all. Growing hard at the madness that’s spewing from the flashing screen, I wake you up and turn us into flux once more.