Pieces of You- S.K. Nicholas

These lazy afternoons are made of bones and tiny pieces of your nose and the image of your outie belly button laced with sugar and a length of string lassoed around a tooth or it could be the moon. Depends whether we’re on talking terms or not. Gonna have a beer and shave my pubes and then place them in an envelope and send them to you sealed with a kiss plus a photograph of me as a kid back when my hair was more ginger and I was a hyperactive dick, as opposed to now when I’m just old and strange. I’ve got sunburn and I’m all out of rolling tobacco and my teeth hurt and there hasn’t been a terrorist attack in months and I’m worried that when I next take the train I’ll be caught up in one and end up as some body outlined by chalk available to view on the internet in just a click so I’m walking through this field and it’s so hot and I see flesh and birth and wombs and honey and the sea and the sea it calls to me and even though I don’t know what to say I’m sure there’s a response in me just waiting to get out so on Monday Wednesday and Friday I do these squats and pretend I’m fucking a supermodel I wanna be just like Bundy wanna be wrapped up in infamy but boredom will no doubt get the better of me and the sweet taste of whiskey is enough to render anyone dumb, especially me. Might grow my hair and blow my brains out but not before I do the dusting and drink a cup of tea while doing my best to fall off the edge because sometimes falling off the edge is just so sweet so maybe come round and fall with me. Should put this in a letter but I’m too tired. I used to be such a romantic, or at least I think I did. Now I’m just bored with everything but there are times when a little light comes through. Not often it must be said, but now and again it happens, and life feels better for it, specially when I write about your smile and how it flares in my mind like an explosion in the sky, like that of a falling satellite, or an angel kicked out of heaven for its love of mirrors and André Previn.


S.K. Nicholas is the creator of Myredabyss.comas well as author of two novels A Journal for Damned Lovers Vol 1 & 2. Both of these books are availableon AmazonAdditionally, Nicholas is a member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective.

Self Addressed Stamp Envelope-Erich Michaels

StateLibQld_2_171951_Intimate_portrait_of_a_man_writing_a_letter,_1900-1910

There are paths I walked in my youth

Enough times you might still see me there

A needle stuck in a groove

This is my life [tick]

This is my life [tick]

This is my life [tick]

Stop and tell me my future

Stay and read my leaves

Tell me that despite

My widdershin path

That I’ll be all right

If I don’t believe you…make me

I wrote a letter to that young wanderer

Using my address from that time

Across the top: Erich Michaels (adolescent)

In it I said:

Yes…she will break your heart, but…

Enjoy the ride

Also, don’t block out her name

She deserves better than that

That tattoo will be a regret

Not just because it’s needle and thread

Bottle of India ink, prison-chic

But because it doesn’t represent you

Have a little more fun in college

Yes, grades are important

But, so are friends

You’ll regret not going to graduate school

But I’m here to tell you

You’ll marry a wonderful woman

You’ll raise her fantastic son

And you’ll make a baby boy

Who fills the parts of your heart

That you thought were condemned

This will be your new path

You’ll be right where you’re supposed to be

And everything will be alright

This is my life [tick]

This is my life [tick]

This is my life [tick]

Just

Let it

Play


Erich Michaels describes himself as  “just trying to share the human experience.”  He has a bachelor’s degree in creative writing, but find himself writing SOPs (lather, rinse, repeat) in order to make a living, which can be detrimental to the creative process.  You can find him on the road to recovery at Erich Michaels.  Every journey begins with a single step, right?