We hang ourselves whole
by the ropes that we weave
into wishes, veins that vie
like vines by the nooses
we knot around necks,
twisted and tangled
around muscle and tissue
that dries no tears. We
are stained with the tears
the years have taught us
to play with. We try to play
happy songs on hardened hearts
than cannot be healed, cutting
ourselves on cords too costly
to be constant, too broken
to be buoyant.

We hang ourselves whole
thinking hope can fill the hole.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:


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