Author S. K. Nicholas

To the memory of all those distant towns that claw at my fingers as they hang over the edge of the bed at 3 am. Mouth open and snoring, I dream of parks and lakes as they swim with faces forever in a stasis yet still capable of getting under my skin. Despite the passing of so many days, in my heart, it’s snowing, and probably always will be. Perpetually in yesterday throwing pieces of bread to ducks I value more than people, there’s a feeling in my bones I haven’t been close to since. How strange the years come and go without making me feel anything of value. How peculiar that entire lives fade into the background even when you’re dancing in their arms. Tossing and turning in my sleep, the hours dissolve like the smiles of lovers. Blinking at the ceiling, I long for the touch of someone to ease me through these months of silent perseverance, but it’s a lonely ride, I understand that now. I should just keep going; keep focused. But it’s not as simple as that. As much as I see myself as a machine, there are times when it gets too much. Exhaling through boredom, things go and come, but I’ve no idea what they are or what they mean. Life is a mystery to me, much like everything else.