Art
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i long to touch flesh to feel some sense of something that caress, that song of which i am so lacking isn’t it so tragic that here i am alone with a heart full of magic so useless so prone to the tigers that are waiting to dream is suffocating a longing so hopeless its… Read more
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More fields and clouds. No women, only solitude. Away from the tedious minds and bodies of others, I feel at one with myself, calm. The sun brings back memories, and it’s warmth makes my blood feel good. Nature helps me to understand things, to let go of junk. And there’s too much junk, not enough… Read more
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Pinky doors of flesh, flowering in fields of corn. Drinking my beer with the last slithers of light leaving the night sky, I feel myself drifting to sleep. Music calling me away, the scent of burning candles mask the scent of cigarette smoke. It’s humid, balmy. Clouds cover stars, spiders scuttle in the corners of… Read more
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Today. After work, I walked through an English field. It took me two hours in all. At one point, I stumbled across a girl with blonde hair reading a book not far from where this photo was taken. Miles from nowhere, I was worried she would panic at my sudden appearance, fearing… Read more
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Skeletal blowjobs. Cracks in plastic flesh spreading to the lonesome trees on the corner of 58th Street. Skyscrapers, oozing all the lust and sadistic dreams you could ever think of. Drinking causes flux, it dislodges boredom and makes softened bones feel real again. Painted women. Evil dripping from the corners of their cute little mouths. Lipstick… Read more
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As natural as sorrow Read more
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Self portrait wearing favourite jumper. Read more
Author S. K. Nicholas 