Writing
-
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 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 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
-
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
-
yeh, pouting, pointless, lipless beauty with those big, pretty eyes green, blue, doesn’t matter there’s nothing particular nothing memorable, about the likes of you you, who make them go weak at the knees making them abuse themselves at night gasping for air clutching hollow bones whilst thoughts of your body explode in their feeble, sweaty… Read more
-
on sunday mornings when the sun comes flooding in through the window all of my mistakes and all of my regrets shine with a beauty that makes me smile from ear to ear the madness that burns brighter than the sun the sadness darker than the deepest sea it dazzles me completely sometimes, i fall… Read more
-
Skeletal blowjobs. Cracks in plastic flesh spreading to the lonesome trees on the corner of 58th Street. Skyscrapers, oozing all the lust and sadistic dreams you could ever think of. Drinking causes flux, it dislodges boredom and makes softened bones feel real again. Painted women. Evil dripping from the corners of their cute little mouths. Lipstick… Read more
-
my love grows in a secret garden long forgotten lost covered with weeds, branches reaching for sunlight with no reply, neglected flowers, buried beneath dead autumn leaves worms, crawling in the shadow of a broken swing it’s an ugly fucking garden, but it breaths like any other all it needs is a little care for… Read more
-
In torture gardens, the bodies hang from trees. They swing, and they sway. Singing her name, the sky swallows a handful of flowers. Lipless and sucking, it showers them with saliva. Oranges, daffodils, rolling down the hill to the cusp of her dress. Beneath it, the oceans swell. They circle stars born from her womb.… Read more
Author S. K. Nicholas 