Dust Girl

S. K. Nicholas


Draw the curtains and turn out the troublesome light. Smoke a cigarette and crumble and then bloom and crumble and bloom some more. Smile at nothing and then break down with each and every laboured breath while unbuttoning your shirt and touching your breasts even though you’re miles from being in the mood. Sometimes it makes you come alive, but at times like this, you just feel cold and stupidly useless. Smile at nothing again and scratch your chest wishing for something to happen. You can hear voices so many voices that belong to so many people and yet nearly all of them say nothing despite their endless babble. There are those who would be your lover, and yet none of them say anything worth repeating. Trash this and trash that with their banal sexuality and their lame come to bed eyes while their bed is the slab that will one…

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