Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Writing

  • Feed Me

    all the tired lovers regurgitating their love over and over and over again Read more

  • Don’t Wanna Wake Up Next To Your Stretched Skin

    waking up next to your stretched skin my eyes hurt from the dirty sunlight that pours in through the window head cracked like an egg mouth dry with shame, suffocating so heavy, so dead this is what i wanted this is what i get cheapness, drowning in empty acts that attack the very heart of… Read more

  • Curled Up Like A Tiny Animal

    Walking through the woods on my birthday, and it’s pissing down with rain. I’m drenched. My cigarette goes out. Stood sheltering beneath a tree, a fox runs out from a bush. It looks at me, stops, then runs back. I’m tired, and there’s nothing to do. I don’t want to do anything though. Except write,… Read more

  • My Writing as Sex, Faith, and Religion

    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

  • The Skull On The Step

        That skull outside is looking at me with a grin on its bony face. Sat perched on the edge of a step in the garden, it silently mocks me as a dog barks somewhere in the distance. Above it, the crescent moon is faintly visible in the blue sky. It calls to me,… Read more

  • Absent Lovers

    Bare feet on the freeway. Absent lovers and blood red lips. Plump and full. Sweat dripping into my eyes, the vehicles speed past so vacant and cool. Killers on the loose, all over the papers. Ink on my fingers, then in my mouth. Crushed metal, and the way her nipples caress that fine dress of… Read more

  • Portrait Of The Artist As A Young(ish) Man

    I started writing my novel five years ago, but truth be told, my heart wasn’t in it for the last three. Whenever I sat down to write, it was the last thing I wanted to do. There was no belief. No passion or desire in what I was doing. And when that happens, you might… Read more

  • Sometimes

    sometimes, love leaves me like a dream upon waking and although i fight to keep it it just won’t stay sometimes, my heart aches from all my mistakes all those words that i kept silent hidden from the ones i loved for so long sometimes, i wish i could make the right move and not… Read more

  • Days Of Calm

    Ink across the eyes, moving invisibly like ghosts. Woken by a car alarm, dreams of a sexual nature shattered making me bury my head beneath a pillow in despair. It was a good dream as well. So much flesh and desire. So much warmth, only to be lost so cruelly in an instant. Sunshine shining… Read more

  • Writing Saved My Lost Soul

    It seems that going mad was the best thing that ever happened to me. Before the breakdown of my relationship, and the mess that followed, I’d become complacent. Writing didn’t mean that much to me. Yes, I was working on a novel, but that had been reduced to wallpaper long beforehand. Whenever I tried to… Read more