Author S. K. Nicholas

More dreams. This time of a house on a hill resembling a nipple on a tit. It unfolded like a movie. Something by Hitchcock. The scene in psycho where she’s driving with a headful of memories and heart of sharpened knives. Even as it faded upon waking, my mouth salivated as the imagery that seemed Read more

These dreams have been feverish for weeks now. The end of the world. The victim of a shooting. Public embarrassment and doppelganger dogs. Like in life, I don’t know what’s going on, yet towards the end of each nocturnal hallucination, the two of us are in the throes of fucking. She’s digging her fingers into Read more

When I walk the streets at night, I wonder… I wonder that if I were to wrap my arms around a tree, would it bring me closer to the God I so desperately seek, or land me in a padded room? If I were to rid myself of these clothes and venture into the woods, Read more

It rained not long after I left the store. Droplets of rain hit my pockmarked face, pinching me like the nippy fingers of a lover. A mild sting, followed by relief, then a need to embrace the sensation of pain once again. The rain flattened my hair, so I fetched a hat from my satchel Read more

Market stalls make way for the aisles of a store where as a child, I stole a packet of sweets from under the nose of my grandmother. It’s not the same store, but I remember how it once was. All yellow, and endless, like the trail left by a greedy bee covered in pollen. Pondering Read more

The town was mostly grey—a Thursday. The market was on, but I avoided it at all cost. Too many people. Too many egos floating around like plastic bags caught in a storm. Momentarily closing my eyes with the wind against my face, I saw her beneath me with her arms pinned to the mattress. Like Read more

The unwinding hours. When night changes the flavour of day, and love rearranges the names of all the colours in the most inspiring of ways. Kissing in the pouring rain, it’s as if there’s such a thing as magic after all. Streets I’ve walked a thousand times appear to twist and turn in new directions, Read more

Wiping the rain from my face, I glimpse blades of grass dancing around centuries-old gravestones. In my madness, the slithers of green are the kids I went to school with, and the leaves blowing around them the gyrating hips of an ex-lover—the spiralling movements indicative of my precarious mental state that seems to rise and Read more

Now and again, I escape myself. There are several ways. Several doors. Drink. Drugs. A tiresome concoction of the two. Sex is better, and it’s always good for allowing you to embrace a sense of otherness, but the orgasm brings with it a sense of relief that’s only fleeting, and while you feel as if Read more

Through the cemetery with the wind and rain in my face, I momentarily forget myself. I’m moving through time, zipping back and forth between the past and the present like a dragonfly drunk on sunshine. The gravestones that surround me don’t say a word, but they observe with diligence the same as they’ve done since Read more