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As she sticks out her tongue and tastes the ashes that fall like snow, I’m knocking back a glass of beer admiring the scorched grass that stretches as far as the eye can see. In the back of my mind, I imagine what she would look like in the nude with her legs above… Read more
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Stood in a swimming pool masturbating over the memory of some cute blonde who had a penchant for taken from behind, someone tells me that fifty people have been shot dead in a gay bar in Orlando. They also call me a pervert, but that’s neither here nor there. Finishing myself off, I swim… Read more
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There was a time when writing didn’t mean that much to me; when I could go months without putting pen to paper and feel not one ounce of regret. To think of those seasons when to conjure words was of no interest; when my passion wasn’t for imagination, but for wasting hours doing not much… Read more
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In the time it takes to prise open the cellar door, I see what remains of my incarcerated faith with a curious smile spreading across chapped lips. In a place where snakes and rats crawl in conjoined circles that resemble the shape of her breasts, my fingers tighten around the crowbar as thunder rolls… Read more
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The last slithers of light dance upon blades of grass as I stand in the bathroom pissing out an evening’s worth of beer. Looking through the open window while trying not to lose my aim, it’s a great sensation to be letting it all out while taking the time to observe nature in all… Read more
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She undresses in a pool of oil, and despite there being no moon, I can see every blemish she has to offer. It makes her feel ugly, and she does what she can to hide away, but I demand to see everything because every inch of her is honey on my tongue. The secret… Read more
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As a stray cat meows while eating leftover chicken from out of a bin, my fingers itch at the prospect of what will inevitably follow. The evening is made of horror movies and handjobs, and the soundtrack one of thunder and rain against a window held together with duct tape. The sudden intake of… Read more
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There’s a light that shines beneath her skirt, and when I lift it up, I catch a glimpse of the freeway and ten-thousand glistening shards of glass that hang suspended over a lake the colour of her eyes. Unzipping myself and letting her see what I’ve got, she pokes it for a bit but… Read more
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The waitress is brunette. She looks French. Petit. Stuck-up. She refuses to look at me, and no matter how intently I stare at her, she avoids my gaze. Undressing and possessing her as she collects empties and cleans tables, I imagine her dancing in a room the colour of blood. It’s the same colour… Read more
Author S. K. Nicholas 