Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Anxiety

  • Surface, No Feeling

      The cunt next door is listening to his shitty drug music again. My disgust for him is primarily born out of the fact that he wears flip-flops, but on a whole, every aspect of his dim life leaves me nauseated, from his constant drug-induced chatter to the sounds he listens to while blabbering with… Read more

  • get back

        resting my head on her belly i watch as she touches herself and smile at what it means to me and what it means to her it’s warm outside warm so gloriously warm like honey in the sun or the bellies of lazy cats sat out in the garden for hours and hours… Read more

  • 90’s Kids

      90’s kids drowning in some kinda maelstrom along with trees and Saturday sunshine and chalk drawings in the middle of the road that will stick around for weeks and weeks until September rain comes and washes them away. 90’s haircuts and 90’s bodies now just photographs and ashes and memories that drift like moths… Read more

  • bed

        this empty bed and the shit loads of dust that keeps covering my stuff no matter how many times i clean and clean and clean before growing bored and desperate opening a beer that turns into two beers that turns into four while listening to the useless cokehead next door talk talk talk for twelve… Read more

  • Versions/Doors

      Peeking through an open door, we sit in the park making plans reading magazines that tell us how things will be but things never quite plan out that way, because that’s life, right? We could be angry about how it turned out, but shit happens to everyone, and whether we like it or not,… Read more

  • Weightless & Semi-Erotic

      Through these blades of amber grass that twist and turn in the breeze, we peek at those who do such a sleazy job at being what they think it means to be human. For many, they spend their days seeking a version of life that doesn’t exist, but for the likes of us, such… Read more

  • Double Fantasy

    My fingers touch the tiny shards of broken glass as they glisten in the dirt. They pick them up one piece at a time and place them gently so gently around your sleepy head. Dipping my forefinger into a pool of oil from which my reflection peers from so wearily and drunk, I mark your… Read more

  • Just You

      In the time it takes for me to kiss your lips, you turn your head and I end up kissing your cheek instead. But this won’t do, no, it won’t do at all. In a body of water, and in a body of clouds, I lay my hands upon you and claim what is rightfully… Read more

  • Dreams of Leaving

      If the seconds were to slowly disperse and there was no more time left to speak our truths, I would move towards you and place my lips on yours and as the atoms in our bodies separated and we became at one with the nothingness around us, this version of me would surely die… Read more

  • Undead Lovers

      It’s a Friday night, and as we sit at our table in the restaurant, you shake your head oblivious to everything and pretend to play the piano. Drinking your single glass of beer that you’ll make last the entire meal, you’ve still got over half left but you’re already tipsy, and when you see… Read more