We could spend the night drinking those bright blue cocktails that turn our piss a funny colour and we could smoke cigars and instead of savouring the taste just swallow the smoke until it burns our insides like crispy old newspapers left beneath the boiling sun during those long summer months where nothing happened and we were happy because of it. Yeah we’re bored and yeah we drink like fish and yeah our eyes bulge from our perversions and when we dance in clubs and fuck until the early hours of the morning on the bare floorboards of your bedroom it feels so dirty but it’s love and even if it’s not it feels like it so who gives a shit? You sometimes sing and you sometimes wrap your legs around my neck so I can’t breathe. When face to face with nature, I try to avert your gaze but it can’t be done no it can never be done. I want what can’t be tasted and try my best to avoid beauty but it can’t be done no it can never be done because beauty is contagious and everytime I kiss your flesh I dig my fingernails into the palms of my sweaty hands wishing to not be alive but I want to be alive more than anything because your smile is so precious and it’s second only to the smile of the stars. But in a certain light when you slide those clothes off and your hair floats in the breeze from the window you are more than the stars and you are more than God- you are everything. But I won’t tell you because I’m greedy, and wouldn’t it be just so easy for you to see me when I’m so weak? I could’ve killed myself years ago- could’ve just drifted away but then who would be writing these words? Who would ever be so stupid to keep dreaming when there would seem to be so little left to dream of? We search and we dig: we scratch and pick away at these scabs because there’s truth to be found and although we don’t know what we’re looking for we know it’s out there and we keep on going because there has to be a reason. Doesn’t there?
Author S. K. Nicholas 
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