Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Art

  • Every Little Thing

    See the world but don’t see yourself. Buried too deep within flesh and bone. Submerged in shadows like ink across the eyes. Days and weeks and months and years. Seasons fade. Not reborn just replayed. Sex dispels. It paints pictures that aren’t real. American hostages lined up by the side of a roadblock. Floating in… Read more

  • We All Turn To Dust

    navigate a different path examine yourself judge yourself divorce yourself from reality know your birth lust the melancholy of where you come from the feral ways of future past fifty words to describe sadness several ways to walk in a straight line the only thing that ever changes is you the world stands still a… Read more

  • Yes

      You put the bullet in the chamber like coffee in the pot. All those days spreading like cancer around swollen tongues. Shaken baby syndrome and nicotine stained fingers. A tiny violin on cute little wrists. Crimson kings and bandages suffering like a million victims of war. Blood on the dirty asphalt and tyre tracks leading… Read more

  • Ballerina

    I feel like cutting the feet off a ballerina  Read more

  • Gold Against The Soul

      I owe it to the dreams that always bring me around. Such madness so glorious and terrible. Faith in drunken kisses as the ocean creeps to our naked feet. Play the piano and dance with the trees. Embrace the lonely hours like they never even existed. I’m not the same, yet I’m exactly how… Read more

  • The Sounds That Carry in the Breeze

    Ink across the eyes haunting like a lover from the past. Lost places and faces grabbing my feet as I sleep. Lies woven into the very fabric of what I am. A series of images repeating like a stuck reel of film in an abandoned cinema. It rains and smoke curls around my hands as… Read more

  • Too Late For Goodbyes

    Skylights as another darling cuts herself whilst pouting in the mirror. All this misery in self obsession. This damned lust for sadness when the horrors of nature should make us thankful for everything we already have. Sex can’t save you, nor can the embrace of yet another blurred face. It comes from within. Redemption and… Read more

  • Narc

    They go wild like a clock that never speaks. They cry at the moon when the words always fail. Pioneers of something wonderful and mute. Show me the way to all things resolute. Obey me. Praise my hollow bones on a dirt pile made of patience and joy. So many pretty faces. So much lipstick.… Read more

  • The Downward Spiral

    Inescapable like fate. Immovable like a mountain. Climbing a church spire and smoking until it hurts your lungs. So much vision and wonder. So many places never to be known. All those lowly insects. All that passion in the back seats of a million burnt out cars. Damned by the touch of all those you’ll… Read more

  • Suicide Journalist

    he worshipped bacteria instead of lovers  drove an old Pontiac whilst drowning himself in miracle sauce  words made him now they fail him  suicide journalist as he puts one in the chamber  dying like the future  succumbing  like everything else  Read more