Author S. K. Nicholas

The hour is built around a photographic memory and a thirst for midget pornography. As a result, there are wet patches on her shirt where I keep sucking at her breasts along with the vague sensation of being in two places at the same time. She pushes me away while trying to read her book, but my mouth searches them out because I’m hungry and lacking in nature. Those tiny dinosaurs that fly overhead as I walk to the shops in need of alcohol and crisps- how they dazzle with their delicate feathers. They used to roam the earth- they used to dominate- but now they’re relics of an extinct time much like those pressed flowers of mine or the songs I listen to on my iPod while walking the streets as dusk comes calling. How heart-breaking it is to think that the masses go through their lives not knowing anything other than what they’ve been told. How sad that so many live a lie without ever taking the chance to see things differently. But right now, such thoughts are beyond my grasp. All I want is to be happy, but my dark half is a crafty fucker. It’s a sly hand that tickles without ever easing the itch. It jacks me off but quits right at the last second leaving me in a state of agitation where my body and mind are continually out of sync. Up at the mausoleum as we picnic, the town below appears so picturesque. The sun is our god and her body a doorway to all realms. Eating her sandwich, she allows a ladybird to crawl upon her hand and attempts to feed it a crumb of bread. In the stalks of corn that sway in the gentle breeze, I see a sly fox licking its lips, hungry yet afraid to approach. Taking a piece of her sandwich, I move on tiptoes and offer what I’ve got, but before I’m able to register its response, there’s that sensation of being in two places again. Unsteady on my feet, she calls out my name, but I’m already drifting through the bus station of a town left behind many years ago. From place to place I roam until I’m in the restaurant where we shared our first meal. I can taste her perfume on the tip of my tongue. I can see a glimpse of her secret smile, and when she dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin, the softness of her skin renders me blind.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com