The Floating World

If Stephen’s writing had a mouth, I would make out with every word. ❤

S. K. Nicholas


The forest and all the animals are in her belly. The trees that tower so high into the sky of which are older than God, they want my seed, but my seed isn’t good enough because I’m just a shadow of something that wasn’t here to begin with. There’s the need within me to bite her shoulder and suck her neck so as to let her know she’s mine and no one else’s, but the older I get, the less everything makes sense, and all I can do is drift further away into a time and place that leaves me in a stasis that just won’t shift. She glistens and shimmers and speaks words of poetry, but I can’t reach her because I’m just a man and that means I’m useless. Nothing makes any sense, and this distance between realities can’t be overcome so I just sit around eating junk…

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