Women fuck me up. I want to perform small intimacies on them. It’s not even sexual. How easy carnality would be, fuck and forget. But the things that I want come with time; a hand that lingers; a meal shared; afternoon naps; laced fingers. The casual that is beautiful, innocuous, dutiful, caring, fatuous, benign. The divine fine little things. I just want to touch them, you know. Be there when everyone says nothing. Float in our own lost thoughts together and idolise the interstitial times. I want them to take their skin off and show me the machine beneath.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.