Author S. K. Nicholas

Walking down the sidewalk, I come to a halt and close my eyes. Enveloped by a kiss, the urge to cling to a tree and sink my teeth into its bark is almost overwhelming. Raising my arms, I sway for several second before falling backwards. No one comes to save me, but it’s okay, because I don’t want to be saved. As birds circle the tops of grey buildings as my body hits the ground, a song passes from my lips and is heard only by the stray cats and dogs gathered around the broken clock tower. Swimming through the concrete streets, the faces that pass by show no signs of life. They move unaware of all they can’t fathom. My love is a poem without words. It’s a finger placed upon the tongue of someone willing to believe in what can’t be seen. It’s a melted tyre over charred bones down some alley in Brazil where blood and sex go hand in hand like lust killers taking each other to the brink of consciousness. There’s nothing to fear, so why not play the piano as I draw your body with my newest set of pens? Stop peeling the sunburnt skin off your nose and start dreaming of what it will feel like to run into the sun with your smile stretching from ear to ear. An absence of noise falls like a feather; it caresses as if possessed by an angel. Sometimes it’s good just to let go, just to forget about everything and lose yourself. It’s not hard, just draw a door and step through.