Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Memories

  • Cute girls. Losers and fuck-ups. All the beautiful people. Boiling together beneath clouds and neon ghosts. My stomach hurts, so I have a beer to make it better. Galaxies, distant and barely visible, held beneath her tongue so natural. All the lonely souls, dreaming together in silence. In a sweet embrace, that no one will Read more

  • Journal Entry

    Drinking beer in bed. My neck hurts. Could be cancer, but probably not. My balls are empty, wasted on empty lust. The sky grows dark, the moon, nowhere to be seen. My navel visible, my belly thinner than it was before. I’m watching a documentary about the universe. Reminds me that there’s more to life Read more

  • Tangled Thoughts

    The pages of a book, fluttering in the breeze. Something feels wrong. Something out of place. I’ve been so ill. Ever since she left me, there’s been nothing at all. Faces come and go, but they reek of poverty. Poverty of the soul. Too much cheapness. Too many shadows. Haunted by mistakes, by passing feelings. Read more

  • I’ve only been working on the novel a few days, but already I’m possessed. The energy and passion are back with me like they were all those years ago. All doubt is removed. No, not just removed, but obliterated. I feel as though I can walk through walls, as if the boundaries that were once Read more

  • Journal For Lovers

    Islands of dreams. Of naked desire. Strip it back, and taste a little truth. Don’t go into work tomorrow, spend the day in bed with me instead. Let the sun wake you up at midday. Then just lay there, looking up at the clouds as they pass on by high above and out of reach. Read more

  • Writing gives me two things. The first is an incredible sense of freedom. The second a plateau of loneliness. You need to cut yourself off from people to write, that’s as simple as anything. But it’s not just about needing time alone to physically write, it’s about meditating- losing yourself in your head. Sometimes, I spend Read more

  • 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

  • This Sullen Welsh Heart

      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

  • Saturday

    The evening rolls in. Warm, fresh. Fading blue skies. Work was busy, unfulfilling. The heat brings out women. Short skirts, cleavage on show. So many beautiful women. Sometimes, one will give me a smile. Occasionally, flirting occurs. I imagine what it would be like to fuck them. I see us both naked, going at it Read more

  • Thoughts on Turning 30

                The people I went to school with are settled down now. Married, kids of their own, the lot. But here I am, single, poor, and clinging to fanciful dreams of being a writer. Age doesn’t mean a thing to me; I couldn’t care less that I’m nearly thirty. The Read more