Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Prose

  • Days Of Wonder

      Nothing of any meaning comes from complacency. That’s what I told myself whilst walking around the quarry this afternoon. Just after this photo was taken, it started to piss down. So, taking refuge beneath some trees, I sat and smoked a cigarette. No art of merit is born without pain, I said. There needs… Read more

  • Islands

    showering drunken kisses upon her wet lips the night burns with fire and wine she says she’s ugly that somehow she’s not good enough but i can’t keep my hands off her breathless and wild there’s nothing more i want than to take her in my arms and make us one surrounded by neon ghosts… Read more

  • Days Of Creation

    After finishing my shift at work today, I now have nine days off. This time last year, I was on holiday with my then lover. Years before that, I was on holiday with a pregnant lover in a log cabin. This time, it will be spent alone. In some ways it’s sad, and it makes… Read more

  • Nowhere

    smoking a cigarette and lost in thought like a nowhere man real good Read more

  • Let’s Get Lost

    give me a lover who dreams like i do not another obsessed by the mundane oh, the banality of our lives lusted after with blind stupidity in the blind hope that to become like everyone else will somehow set us free instead, take me by the hand and dare to step outside let’s get lost… Read more

  • Guts

    it’s raining outside and i’m sickened blacked out and howling to the moon my guts everywhere chewed up like a plastic bottle left in pieces all over the floor being alone doesn’t bother me though not really i like the silence and my own company brings nothing but solace to think of her with another… 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

  • Her Body Is The Shape Of My Hands

    An open door. The sea. Desolate shopping arcades. Smiles as she walks hand in hand, with me. Teeth white like milk, sharp. A lover. A woman. Wind, blowing sand in our faces. A dress she wears, so pretty showing curves so, fine. Hand in hand upon the promenade, the day goes on forever. Love, some… Read more

  • Writing, Solitude, and the Need to Express Myself

    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

  • Tell Her

    as thunder rolls across this humdrum town i think of the woman i love and all the words that she deserves maybe someday i’ll write them down for life’s too short to keep the heart at bay she knows them anyway but you can never tell the one you love enough how much they mean… Read more