my entity


Build             bond             break

break out
break away
break down



we are circles encircling

ripples in a small pond


dissolving into the careless current

less             and less             and less

we come up on the curve;
the comeback,
still seeking
a connection

attraction = distraction

more and more                  of less and less

to be less
so as to become more

to come to understand

to take more of a stand
in this sinking sand

of time                                 ticking,

to stand under
to be left alone
to miss
to misunderstand
to be misunderstood

to be missed.


This entity,                 this endless identity

this ripple on the water
I cannot                     catch.


We put so much trust
in every thrust
not to be thrown

not to be let down

let drown.

We adapt

to be apt

to hide
to assimilate
to cover up

makeup                 mask                         masquerade.

You cannot hurt what you cannot see.

You cannot hurt me if you cannot see me.


If I cannot see me.


this identity

this entity             washing away                 on this current.

We are stones
cast careless into the current

we ripple
and fall.

Can you catch a wave
before it’s washed away.

Can I?

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:



Time washes onwards

but I recall each wave

I welcomed

over body

like a cover of comfort

like a blanket of trust,

a surrender to the water

warm, deep breath and dive

without drowning,

I recall each wave

but forget

how far it swept

from the shore,


how it left

each time

with a wanting

for more

as I drifted further

though I cannot swim


I am only fool

not fish

and how you fished…


how your hook cut

so deep.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud…



Settled in,

window seat,

wet feet flooding past,

fleeting reflections

in the steaming glass,

looking for the light

in this city

now grown grey

like those hairs

to hard to hide

above those lines

the mirrors reveal

below the eyes

grown weary of watching,

how did the road

spread itself out so far,

behind is a distance

too complicated

to comprehend,

too muddled

to measure,

even the mirror,

this glass, this reflection

cannot hold

all that has been lost

from sight.

All has settled in

so deep

it is difficult to see

in the reflection

all we once were

as we make movements

meant to be meaningful,

amid all that has of late

grown grey. Grey is the new

black but we have no time

to mourn,

the track never stops for us,

the herd hobbles

forever onwards,

there is no going back,

no slowing down

regardless of the weight,

we moan like mooing cows

but follow like sleep

ignorant of the slaughterhouse

outside on those wet streets

with those feet flooding past

all those fleeting reflections

falling unnoticed

into this river

of graying blood.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud…