Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Relationships

  • Wound

    Saw some kids doing poppers behind the local supermarket. They watched me watching them as I passed with both hands clenched in my pockets. Not out of fear of an altercation, but because I was trying hard to keep myself tethered to the here and now. I was lost in thought, you see. Thoughts regarding… Read more

  • Girl, Dead

    Some girl I went to school with died. We weren’t friends, as such, and yet we rubbed shoulders year after year for the best years of our lives. Mine certainly. She had an infectious smile. A childish smirk that stayed with her well into adulthood. To die in your thirties is no time to die… Read more

  • In the Snow

    In the snow, there is scripture. It spells out her needs and wants. She doesn’t want a friend, that’s for sure, but needs a lover. A lover who can dip his finger into her the same way a greedy kid sticks his tongue into a bowl of icing sugar. Soft so soft. So delicate, like… Read more

  • Syissh

    At night, she smiles with a bellyful of wine clutching jelly rolls of flesh the colour of milk. Inner thighs milk also. Mountainous. Soft and creamy like butter, but as haunted as the most haunted of petrified wood. The club in my hand splinters. The splinters pierce my tongue. I talk with a lisp, and… Read more

  • Gish

    I have sporadic hair patterns on my chest. I write multiple pages of prose regarding my experiences of oral sex. Men. Women. Animal. Whatever. In dream, there is a beetle in the alleyway next to my childhood house. It looks like one of the mechanical enemies in Sonic the Hedgehog. When it curls into a… Read more

  • HG

    There are two bees having sex in a forest next to a bucket of water containing frogspawn. There are streaks of pink hair as flaky fingers lift a tulip to a chin. The bees rise. The fingers that touch the tulip that sits beneath the chin belong to a girl becoming a woman, like a… Read more

  • Cold, Beaten, Stark and Silent

    Fucker, she cusses, under her wispy breath. The smoke from her cigarette forms a halo above her head, and as she floats down the street, it leaves a trail resembling a long streak of cotton candy. Not pink, obviously. Can you get white cotton candy? She doesn’t think so, but you never know. Twitching her… Read more

  • Wet Air

    There’s a sense of purity in the mist. A dreamy bliss that hides the decay of the day-to-day. It brings her a great deal of comfort, and yet, she wishes it would clear so at least she can see where she’s going. Stumbling along, she’s certain that she’ll put her foot in dog shit, or… Read more

  • Soggy Mittens

    The town is small, but the world beyond it is big. So big that she can’t comprehend the vastness of it at all. Not that it matters much at this precise moment. The mist is suffocating. Not just to her, but to everything that exists alongside of her. From the trees to the streets to… Read more

  • Down to the Bone

    With one hand down my pants, and the other on a cold beer, the horrors of the universe are born again in the tingle within my belly. It’s yellow and buttery like sand, maybe melting plastic, or the custard-like flesh of a girl I once loved who left me for some boy with a more… Read more