Author S. K. Nicholas

  Falling asleep in the back of her car, the sky trembles and moans like a rapist being beaten to death on the streets of Cambodia. Picturing all kinds of perversion while struggling to keep an eye out for strangers, she presses her body against mine and pulls the blanket up so she’s completely covered. For… Read more

  On her windowsill, there resides a colony of flies, and sometimes, when she’s not looking, they get between us while we’re making love. When she’s got me where she wants and the flies crawl on her belly, they move over every inch of our flesh until they find themselves nestling on moist lips. She’s got these eyes… Read more

  Listening to King Crimson and picking at scabs until they bleed, I hear wind chimes and the distant cries of young lovers as their lives implode for the seventh time this week. As mountains shift and stars melt upon my tongue, it snows despite being the end of April. Walking the streets a few… Read more

  In spirals of ancient silence, she is a star boundless against the exploding skies that still linger over our heads even though they died centuries before we were born. In some South-American country with no name, a bus driver’s sat at the wheel with a bullet lodged in his zygomatic arch. Blood pouring from… Read more

  Drunk and foaming at the mouth, I inspect her photographs and shake my head. Her body fascinates me, and yet her eye for beauty is somewhat lacking. It’s always the same; young girls going to London fascinated by its culture; tempted by the bright lights and sounds of the exotic. And yet so quickly… Read more

  In those blistered mirrors, she looks at the marks on her arms and grimaces. Despite the tattoos and attitude she uses as camouflage, she’s the same as she was when they were fresh; each scar telling a story she’d give anything to forget, the past isn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.… Read more

  As she undresses beneath a painting of a sycamore tree on Bunker Hill, I drink straight from the bottle. White wine. Australian. It does the job, but it takes a few cigarettes to ease me into another state of being enough to wipe out my juvenile fears. Her sex is shaved and smooth to touch,… Read more

  Frogs boil on the sidewalk, and as I pass them by, their melting eyes blink at mine accusingly as if I’m somehow to blame for their demise. The smell of bubbling flesh making me wretch, I hum a song to take my mind off it while looking at a wall of TVs in an… Read more

  Between her toes as they peek over the side of the bed, there’s a chasm where all her old lovers hang out. Sliding her fingers in circles in the one spot they could never find, she says she’s in search of a magic moment, but I’m bored and can’t think of a reply. Rolling… Read more