Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Sex

  • Red

    Cum on her tits. Cum in her mouth. All over her face, especially in her eyes. Bend her over, take her hands and pull her arms back. Fuck her relentlessly. Fuck her until the sweat pouring from your forehead blinds you. Pull on her hair. Grab her tits and squeeze ’em. Hair everywhere, brush it Read more

  • Her Body Is The Shape Of My Hands

    An open door. The sea. Desolate shopping arcades. Smiles as she walks hand in hand, with me. Teeth white like milk, sharp. A lover. A woman. Wind, blowing sand in our faces. A dress she wears, so pretty showing curves so, fine. Hand in hand upon the promenade, the day goes on forever. Love, some Read more

  • Heat

    Have a beer, a smoke too. Take a piss, and feel like a king. Remember the way she used to give herself to you. No shame, only physicality. Hips of a goddess, and breasts that mirrored the shape of my hands just right. Waking up next to her in the morning, I’d always slip one Read more

  • This Is Not A Wish

    The sun sets solemnly, visibly indifferent through the trees upon the hill. Light is fractured by an abundance of leaves that sway in the breeze. It’s warm outside, and the day is old. Hours pass, comforting, mocking. Dust settles upon tired skin. Yawning, collapsing and daydreaming whilst everyone moves on regardless. Colours fading, thoughts succumbing. Read more

  • Eyelashes And Empires

    Mountains and darkness. Immersed in deep water, the kind that hasn’t seen the light of day for years. Sparkling, dizzying. Teeth and candles, dazzling like dreams. Unbalanced and unhinged, falling apart as sunshine creeps upon freshly washed skin. It’s autumn, or possibly early winter. The afternoon is young, yet the chill wind that blows tells Read more

  • On Tenterhooks And Collapsing

    I’m at the foot of the bed wearing only my boxers. She’s watching porn, and I’m writing a poem whilst fantasising about fucking her. I’m thirsty, and my balls ache. The room’s a mess, and we’ve done nothing all day long. It was sunny out as well, but I slept for most of it with Read more

  • She’s Got Hollow Bones And An Empty Heart

    Her tired painted face, aching with sexual prowess and sleaze. Some kind of wonder, leaving you choking on her remedy. It’s nauseating, and liberating. It makes you feel alive to know how many she’s slept with. To imagine how many hands and tongues have taken her to some higher plane. Obliterated all that she is Read more

  • Mountains And Whores

    As the rain falls outside, there are no mountains left to find. There were none to begin with, though. They were just illusions like everything else. Illusions of a sick mind, abstractions that my ill body refused to give up on. There have never been any mountains, beneath the sea or above it. I fabricated Read more

  • Disappear Here

    It’s just something that needs to be done. Something that fills me up with love. Warm spunk, ready to cover a temple of imperfection. Ready to infect, and to desecrate all that I deem fit. There’s not enough truth in fluid if you ask me. Not enough viscera. Sucking mouths and breasts. Placing fingers in Read more

  • The Lucid Tongues Of Sluts

    They think they know what it means, but what it really means, is stained into their hollow little bones. Yeah, the ones wrapped in cheapened flesh, painted for the eyes of all the non believers. In the plagued, desperate streets, they parade themselves as if it were something worth seeing. As if it were somehow Read more