Author S. K. Nicholas

  An empty swing is the grandest image I can muster. Swaying to and fro in the afternoon breeze, there are dead children playing just out of view, and so I go out of my way to avoid them. It’s too difficult. They remind me of her, and of all those things that were once… Read more

  I remember the ostrich that walked up and down the street where I live, and how in the early hours of the morning, it would peck at my front door trying to force me out into the cold and biting January air. It died soon after, struck by a vehicle with no licence plates. The… Read more

  My heart is made from obsidian; it throbs like body parts that excite at the merest sight of something that merges our fears and perversions like the sounds of a lover screaming by the side of the road. It’s snowing, and as she struggles to cut through the traffic, the one she showers with is… Read more

  Curled on the floor with slender lines of light cutting across my body, the hours of the day pass unseen. Sunshine spilling through half-open blinds, the only thing that could come close to my hangover is being arse-fucked by the devil himself. Attempting to crawl beneath the bed and disappear, my frame won’t fit,… Read more

  Sat in the garden while my pale flesh burns beneath the watchful eye of the sun, a tiny dinosaur with wings lands on the table I’m resting my feet upon. It looks at me unsure of what I am, so in an act of good faith, I toss him the crusts of my sandwich.… Read more

  Making love on a sheet of thin ice that covers our favourite lake, we lie on our backs soon after looking at shooting stars so breathless and cold to touch. As a young man, I witnessed a thief having his hands cut off for stealing a loaf of bread. Lead into a courtyard by… Read more

  Stepping foot out the shower and towelling herself dry, try as she might, she just can’t seem to scrub away the guilt that stains her like a birthmark. Lonely like her mum, she sells herself cheap while I talk to broken radiators in the hope of finding God. I never have much luck, though, and… Read more

  To the memory of all those distant towns that claw at my fingers as they hang over the edge of the bed at 3 am. Mouth open and snoring, I dream of parks and lakes as they swim with faces forever in a stasis yet still capable of getting under my skin. Despite the… Read more

  Junky boy-man in the toilet of an aeroplane sticking needles into the left of his testicle- the one with the cyst in it. The last time I saw her, she’d said she wanted me to come all over her. Even the face? Especially the face. So I did as I was told and spread… Read more

  In the pendulum swings of her heart, the days of our love tear into pieces and float on puddles by the side of the road where we argued the night before last. In the rings around her eyes, there’s a different story to be told in each one, but I’ve let my temper get… Read more