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Originally posted on sita teofani: marek-slavik-rebirth 100x135cm_acrylic_and_oil_painting_on_canvas presented-by-knupp-gallery-los-angeles This feeling of content at times comes as a complete emptiness, a void at the very back of my head demanding fulfillment. Life is a bore at this stage, thinking everything is temporary, then whats there left to do. Thoughts; feelings, evolving, shifting, wildly and fast, like… Read more
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I could tell the world how beautiful you are; could put a ring on your finger and show them just how much you meant to me, but so couldn’t anyone? Such a thing once amused me, but deep down the rabbit hole, these pleasantries are as uninteresting as the lives of those who are… Read more
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Withdrawing from crowds. Indulging on gourmet cookie dough after naps that go well into the afternoon. I’m lost here. I can pretend as if I have no idea what he’s talking about but he knows me far too well. Spent the last couple days yelling and drifting off. Scrolling my feed, a picture of three […]… Read more
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When I’m tired and want to be alone, I go to a forest no one else knows to read my books and sit in silence at one with nature and all the gods that ever existed. Perfectly still with my back resting against a tree, the animals come and go telling stories about how… Read more
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The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 and a bottle of white wine after a day of writing and more writing and editing and even more writing and a walk taking in trees and hot stones that burn my hands when I pick them up while still unable to shake the permanent reminder that I am flesh and… Read more
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When she feels the air in her lungs tighten, she grabs her crayons and draws the animals she sees in her dreams and then ladyparts and skeletons reaching up to the clouds from the dull ground below. When she drinks her wine, she feels a little easier in her skin, and sometimes, when she focuses… Read more
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In the room across from the stairs, she puts on her clothes and smiles at the memory of our act. In her arms, she has held many men but never has she held one like me. Between the sheets and between her legs, she has been looked upon with greedy eyes, but such eyes were as… Read more
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Originally posted on The Writings of Jasper Kerkau: Summer is a destructive force. The dank humidity leaves me brooding and exhausted; Houston is unforgiving. The cement, cars, and teaming masses, coupled with my incessant ambition, leaves a trail of sweat, puts me in dark rooms, huddled by the throbbing sound of fans, hiding from the… Read more
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One street after the other skipping through pools of light and pools of oil that glisten as her sex flickers in and out of existence. There’s electricity that guides me forwards. There’s neon on my tongue that tickles what’s within. In the shadows, there’s enough history to bring on enough nausea to last a… Read more
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Originally posted on Muse(sings): I’ve been wrapped in a sheet of white, Since the day I arrived.? Bright, So eerie white. It gathers less peace and more of a sheen of sadness. A river of madness, That carries me like a flash flood.? Drops me from colourful skies, to a land of white sludge. Dripping… Read more
Author S. K. Nicholas 