Anxiety
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Those that live to impress others who couldn’t care less. The cycle that never ends. It’s a way of life so many suffer from because they think it gives them meaning- they think it makes them come alive in the eyes of those around them- but those eyes are long dead- as dead as the sky… Read more
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Review of A Journal for Damned Lovers by S.K. Nicholas/By Jasper Kerkau One of the first pieces I wrote for Sudden Denouement was called, “Writing isn’t Going to Save Me.” Over time I have changed my perspective on this; I realize that writing is absolutely necessary to my survival. It is what gets me through […]… Read more
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The old woman stands there looking at me as I light a smoke. It’s bitterly cold, and the ground is covered in a thin sheet of ice. She has one of those bags on wheels that pensioners always push their shopping around in, and she’s smartly dressed- smart enough to look out of place.… Read more
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Days in bed. Three, four, six, seven. Can’t remember. The air is warm like a fart. It tastes of breasts and butter. Damp bedsheets and empty bottles of beer. Books, biscuits, and slices of stale bread used to line a poorly stomach prone to the aches and pains of being a user of the… Read more
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Flaming Sambuca’s, tattoos beneath pert breasts, and bar jobs serving housing estates whose residents never think of anything beyond the end of their coked-up noses. Shall we watch Shaun of the Dead while eating pizza and chocolate gateau? Shall we make love soon after and then stroll hand in hand through the falling snow… Read more
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Strands of hair. Women. Bleeding gums. Lost satellites that keep drifting further into the unknown reaches of the universe. Is it still Sunday in the mouth of a wormhole? Does love still exist on the event horizon of a black hole? When you curl into a ball and wish your life away, do you… Read more
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Nude bodies foaming at the mouth as bombs drop at our feet creating patterns in the rubble that resemble flowering na-na’s. Shiny teeth ready to sink in as we move through the streets and subways in search of what makes us tick. Is it the written word, or the electricity that surges through our… Read more
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An ex-lover reclines on a bed we once made love upon. Lifting up her skirt, she slides down her panties and shows me her sex. It’s weapon; a knife in the belly, and a bullet between the eyes that devours my heart in the time it takes to slice the face of a thief.… Read more
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The trees are the same as the streets and the same as all those faces that gulp for air while pretending this is what we hoped for when we were children. There were no wars back in our infancy, only cartoons and toys and the promise of weekends playing computer games drinking Coke. The… Read more
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We drink and sink and rise and flow and spin around the sun and then we kiss and even though it might not be love, because we feel it, that somehow seems enough. If it comes from the guts, then it’s perfect, and although it isn’t pretty, it’s beautiful because it makes us shiver… Read more
Author S. K. Nicholas 