Julie Was The Moon – S. K. Nicholas


In a sea of black cotton wool, there was the unshakeable fear of being castrated quickly followed by a crystalline dream where I fucked Julie Delpy. She was wearing callipers, and upon her tender feet, she wore these green shoes that caught the shine of the moon just right. There was no poetry in our act, but there was the taste of dry, opaque sunshine mixed with the smell of black coffee and it reminded me of being a child, and the memory of being a child is the only thing that keeps me from the grave. Julie was the moon, and inside her belly, the devil growled but it was a sweet symphony, and her smile was sweeter still. She wore a short skirt, and although her legs were merely legs, they tickled me the way memories so often do. Memories of my mother’s breast and the fugue state…

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