Author S. K. Nicholas

In the time it takes to prise open the cellar door, I see what remains of my incarcerated faith with a curious smile spreading across chapped lips. In a place where snakes and rats crawl in conjoined circles that resemble the shape of her breasts, my fingers tighten around the crowbar as thunder rolls ever close. Within delicate spheres of fluid mercury, flash floods rage in infinite darkness to a soundtrack consisting of screaming babies and roaring elephants. I’m drunk again, and not entirely sure what’s going on. There had been talk of a storm. Whispers regarding how tight her cervix was. Only now there’s no crowbar, and as I shake my head in confusion, the skies outside are bright blue with not one cloud in sight. Those hips still swim before my eyes, though, making my gums itch real bad until the only thing to do is to go into the kitchen and rub salt onto them. As each grain of the white stuff collides with raw flesh, the pain is immense, and yet the madness doesn’t subside- it just grows like the seed in her belly. To think she was once so pure, so innocent as a five-year-old playing by the seaside with no fear in her heart. And then she met me, and I’ve done my very best to love and destroy her with every breath that has followed. Sometimes I’m dyslexic, but only when I forget. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I take off my armour and breathe easy, but it doesn’t happen often. There are palm trees bending beneath the weight of heavy rainfall. There are mermaids in my pockets as I dive into the waters of her womb staying until morning. Dancing to music from a detuned radio, Spring makes way for Summer. The two dance just like I, but it’s far more splendid and less deranged than anything I’ve got to offer.