Blog
-
Symbols and keys to soft machines and madness. They deceive themselves whilst I suck on my cigarette. They chew themselves up as I remove her clothes and see just how lean she really is. I’m not a monster though, I’m just curious. The stars burn behind my eyes, have done for years. The outer Read more
-
the days are lost to me sinking suns and eskimo kisses hushed like the smothered cries of a lover timeless time smeared across my aching heart always with regret oh these shameful hands of mine caressing shadows that are hopelessly tinged with longing Read more
-
My soul is strange. It’s tender and tired, like an old Welsh song. Yet it’s also so hateful, like a spurned lover left dangling in the wind. Like a discarded rag, caught on a branch of some broken tree. The scent of her room, still so fresh after all this time. Dust and memory. Read more
-
In the English countryside, I’m surrounded by fields of corn and the history of ages. On lazy Sunday afternoons, all you can do is smile. Despite everything that might be wrong, just go for a walk and let it all go, if only for a few hours. Away from everyone, I’m at one with myself. Read more
-
Symbols and Words A language that goes beyond. That goes deeper. Read more
-
The secrets of her womb, motel walls painted vagina red. Oh, how the lovers stroll hand in hand, blind and in love. It’s nothing but a cheapened facade though. For their love is false. Born out of boredom, and swallowed up like hospital food. All those burning wheels, turning on the horizon as we fuck Read more
-
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
-
Waking up in the afternoon, half the day has already been and gone. It’s warm, but there’s no sunshine. I dreamt of Jackson Pollock, and a taxi driver being shot whilst waiting at a set of traffic lights. His attacker was the passenger sat behind him. He shot him in the back of the head Read more
-
Mountains and darkness. Immersed in deep water, the kind that hasn’t seen the light of day for years. Sparkling, dizzying. Teeth and candles, dazzling like dreams. Unbalanced and unhinged, falling apart as sunshine creeps upon freshly washed skin. It’s autumn, or possibly early winter. The afternoon is young, yet the chill wind that blows tells Read more
Author S. K. Nicholas 