Author S. K. Nicholas

On her windowsill, there resides a colony of flies, and sometimes, when she’s not looking, they get between us while we’re making love. When she’s got me where she wants and the flies crawl on her belly, they move over every inch of our flesh until they find themselves nestling on moist lips. She’s got these eyes that go right through you, and when I look into them, I want to punish her for being in possession of such beauty, but how could anyone ever hurt a soul forever caught in a state of constant turmoil? I’ve tried so hard, but whenever she smiles, she defeats all that’s wrong with me, and with every tear she cries, she makes me take her in my arms so as to keep her safe from harm. I’m not sure what I feel for her. It changes all the time. But I know she understands what I am. She recognises me for what I can become- and no other lover has placed that kind of faith in me. The rest just sneered whenever I talked about these dreams of putting pen to paper and making something of myself the hard way. But she sees something hiding behind this cold veneer they never thought possible. Smoking a cigarette while looking out the window, the horizon seems the same as it did in my youth. The same sky, the same buildings. Things change, and yet they remain trapped in a bubble that never bursts. We grow older, but underneath it all, we’re just as we were when we were children. The trick is to keep believing. Most don’t. They just go along with how things are given to them. A system that offers freedom but delivers nothing but restraint. A way of living that gives you what you want as long as you promise to never question the reasons why. We won’t stand for this, though. We won’t stand for it at all.