Moving Through Time


There’s electricity in the way we touch. Not the kind they write about in poems. No, the electricity we share is perverse and sadistic. It’s the sort that fries small children who wander onto train tracks in search of adventure. The kinda shit that electrocutes racoons and drunkards that climb power masts in an attempt to be closer to God leaving their gnarly remains to rot twenty feet up in the boiling summer air. It burns the pages of books written by writers who write only in need of their dreary thirst for acknowledgement and fame. The fame I require doesn’t lie in the masses, but in wanting you to know that the rage in my heart is for real. That these words I piss out aren’t intended to impress, they’re meant as a substitute for my lips. They’re designed to fuck you even though my physical self is so far away. They’re for you and you alone. All of this is one way or the other. In dreams, as in writing, I am by your side clawing at you in desperate need of attention. The urges that never let me rest, they can be subdued and numbed by alcohol, but that gives only a temporary reprieve. No, the only cure for what afflicts me is you, and the only way I can have you is by peeling back this mess of skin showing you what I am underneath. The uneducated would be horrified, they would reel back in disgust and call what we do abhorrent, but that’s why they’re uneducated. For the likes of us who have no home and who will never be at ease, to see that which resides within is the only thing that matters. To taste what others do their utmost to keep hidden is what pushes us closer to the edge. And closer to the edge is where you take me. It’s the only place I come alive.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

32 replies »

  1. I cannot find the words to express exactly how I feel about this piece, so I’ll just go with ‘wow’.
    I’ve been staring at the screen a little while now. Powerful stuff.

  2. See, thing is, nope.. nothing more to say, you said it all. Exactly the truth of the writers need I guess. God damn you nail shit beautifully. (And if they would hear the words written here if that should change distance, or should it even?)
    Thank you for liking my posts so I am reminded to drop in and read! 🙂

    • Thank you for your kindness, it’s very much appreciated. I always look forward to reading your words. I see it as a challenge to respond to each piece with something of my own. And yes, distance is the one thing I always strive to destroy. Along with spiders, it is my number one enemy.

  3. Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
    S. K. Nicholas calls this page A Journal For Damned Lovers. Read this and you will know why.

  4. S.K.– how did I miss this?! Its like someone found the diary entries we hide even from ourselves– our truth wrenched open and raw. “And the edge is where you take me. It’s the only place I ever feel alive.” Damn.

  5. Stunning piece of art. Utterly arresting in its raw, truthful articulation of the “other side”, the alter ego, perhaps? The side were most of us dwell but will not lay claim to…I love this!

    • Thank you!

      I’m so pleased you enjoyed it. I remember writing this after coming out of a period of writer’s block. It felt like a weight off my shoulders to get out these words I’d been keeping back for so long. The truth deserves to always be heard, not kept locked inside x

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