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Originally posted on @ bittersweet diary: I don’t want to be The name in your blocked list , and neither do I want to be a forgotten contact. I don’t want to be a phase in your life, or your flavor of the month. I don’t want to be forgotten smudge of a handprint on… Read more
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Originally posted on Inked Thoughts and Midnight Monologues: ? The light from the old bulb dies down slowly and in the fading of its iridescence, I find myself drunk in the very idea of your flesh. It’s mine to own and yet, your wings take flight and disappear before my eyes in an instant. You’re… Read more
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Originally posted on Daffniblog: Sometimes I want it to be more than a metaphor. And how badly I want to see him tell me the things he thinks. Other times, I prefer the metaphor over reality because, like they say, truth can be hard to swallow. I wander between here and those dark places. They… Read more
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Originally posted on Daffniblog: I’m not happy with who I’ve become. They say if you’re not happy with something about yourself, change it. But then would it be hindering my true nature? I do miss the numbness sometimes. My uppers and downers and routines that made me feel everything at once then nothing at all.… Read more
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Originally posted on Sudden Denouement Collective: “Gravity” from Rana Kelly’s Book Superstition from Sudden Denouement Publishing “GRAVITY” My Heart is an Island, Safe away from society and succor my Soul is the Sand. Tiny crushed pieces of earth and skeletons. Time and death and birth, endless cycles of creation and destruction cushion for your bare… Read more
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Originally posted on Muse(sings): I hear inconvenient outpours,The hush hush incongruities of a sick mind probing into sounds.Those inside my headthat talk to me relentlessly, all day.At times, the signals break,Life shuts down without reception.In white noise I have learnt to live,Breathing amongst dead beings.A cast away psychotic,hurtled like space junk from a space ship.Floating… Read more
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Originally posted on jimmi campkin: I’d spent the evening drinking wine and sketching, writing and dancing around my house with all the lights off and all the windows open, as a keen but cool summer breeze blasted through and I danced with my curtains, against my curtains and around my curtains. Barefooted, in pin stripes… Read more
Author S. K. Nicholas 