Send Nudes

S. K. Nicholas

S. K. Nicholas


Send nudes. Send honey. Write me your dirtiest poetry and post it in an envelope sealed with your wettest kisses. Send lockets of your hair that I may sniff and chew before falling asleep listening to Mogwai or the soundtrack to Grim Fandango. Send me an ounce or two of your soul in an old Sainsbury’s jam jar that I may tentatively inhale one evening while drunk and somewhere between elation and suicidal despair. Send me your old school reports and let me imagine you as you used to be, so innocent and dreamy and as yet unharmed by the hand of man. Make toast and see the face of Jesus. Send me the crumbs and watch via video chat as I snort them along with a mixture of grounded cinnamon and salt rocks that blow off my balls and make mygums bleed. Pluck your eyebrows then mix the little…

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