Author S. K. Nicholas

  My biggest failure is being human. Not really my fault, because I never asked to be born, and nor is it something I’ve ever been proud of. But yeah. Stupid humans with their stupid customs and religions and their self-important belief that somehow they deserve to be saved. If working in retail has told… Read more

  Scars and cold hearts and cigarettes that smell like the smell of her sex only I’m bored and drunk and thinking these thoughts does nothing to me other than aggravate my already worsening dread of being alive in a world that has little to no sense of shame. This bus journey, it never seems… Read more

  Dead flies and faithless figures who dance as if there were no such thing as angels. Dead inside and loving every moment as if the pain of being on the outside for an hour or two were somehow worth it. And all of those years and all of those months where nothing happened- how… Read more

  With night closing in, every lungful of air I inhale makes me dizzier as my steps become laboured. Up ahead of me, beneath the full moon, there’s a blonde wearing black tights. Can’t say what she looks like, but from behind, she makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.… Read more

  The drip-drip of the bathroom sink keeps drip-dripping all through the night, and as we touch and kiss beneath sheets that stick to our skin, I ask how it would make you feel if you knew tomorrow would be the last day of your life. As I push myself inside of you, and you… Read more

  While she’s stood on the balcony drinking wine from the bottle that was intended for the both of us after our meal, I’m stood weak-kneed in the shower masturbating with the radio turned up so she doesn’t hear my moans and groans as I’m fantasising about nailing her best friend- the one with the… Read more

  Take the blade and carve a star into her forehead. Place the petals of a flower one by one from her nipples to her vulva and chant the middle names of past lovers in ascending order based on their ability to recite the opening of Stephen King’s The Shining. Lay your head down before her… Read more

  She looks a bit like Veronica Lake in her heydey. The same peekaboo hairstyle; the same voluptuous, petite body. She, along with everyone else that has ever been born, was created from the death of a star, and a billion years from now when she’s dead and gone, her soul stuff will linger on… Read more

  Getting drunk and listening to Elton John’s ‘Yellow Brick Road ignoring the stomach pains that disco dance within my belly, it’s a Saturday night shit-fest as the town eats itself alive as riots on the streets of London tickle my fancy like the image of a brunette in suspenders seductively eating a choc-ice. Should be… Read more

  Writing on my bed after work, I fall asleep listening to Fripp and Eno. It wasn’t proper sleep, but the kind that sees you walking the thin line between reality and dream. Strange visions flashing behind my eyes as I curled into a ball midway through a blog piece, existential questions kept tapping on… Read more