Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

MyRedAbyss

  • And Two Lovers, Dancing

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  • Extract From A Secret Journal

    Symbols and Words A language that goes beyond. That goes deeper. Read more

  • Words From The Past

      i’m lost inside my head too many yesterdays too many voices belonging to the dead they follow and they haunt mock, taunt all wide eyed dreamy leaving me gasping for more stuck in a stasis a false reality in moments of time rainy nights, a drunken haze the ghost of a girl who used… Read more

  • Never Be Normal, It’s A Fate Worse Than Death

    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

  • A Poem From Yesteryear

    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

  • She Kisses Across The Universe

    she dances like no other the most beautiful girl in town grinning like a hyena obscuring the scum that surrounds dreaming, hypnotizing she gazes intoxicated lights flashing, stars shining yeh, drunken lovers with lusty hearts the madness behind her eyes the energy made visible with angels in her hair and magic at her fingertips moments… Read more

  • More English Fields

    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

  • Pinky Flesh

    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

  • An English Field

          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

  • Noir

    dusk, bottled beer glass cities surrounding soft machines, so low love lies bleeding echoes, of future noir a maze of neon graves bright lights, glowing the killing streets, cold like hanging stars skylines, burning with no escape Read more