If this sombre mood
At this Saturday sunset
Is not for love alone
Then it is for loneliness;
For all that might have been
Or the memory of what used to be.

That pure and perfect picture
Of the cities most captured kiss
May have been merely a moment
Imagined, an idea once captured,
But its essence is alive on the lips
Of each and every courting couple
With their hands joined, their bodies
Touching, teasing, cavorting, embracing
And displaying such a degree of affection
To each other that does nothing but affirm
The solitary state of the single man in Paris.



In the summers heat
The raindrops fall
As the dust of August
Runs down the wall.
Inside the house
Lie endless cries,
Broken hearts
And comfortless toys.
A child on the outside
But silent within,
No one to play with,
No reason to grin.

Sadness falls
Like rain in winter,
Leaves in autumn
And the all too little
The hope of spring.

All she wants
Is to wish on the stars,
To fly with Venus
And twinkle at Mars,
To spread her wings
And take to the skies
To stay above clouds
Where the rain never cries.




An old man
Crossed the street
Below my window
And I wondered to myself
Where my future would lie.

I put my hands to my face
And still smelt of you
As if your body still
Entangled with mine.

I am now fully clothed
Though just moments ago
Lay nakedly revealed
In your arms,
Told you stories,
Shared your secrets,
But know not
If you know
My last name.

In the comfort
Of almost strangers
We let darkness take the day,
In the silence
Beneath that darkness-
We let your needs find their way.

In a world waged not by war,
Harmed not by hate,
Torn not by tears,
We’d lie together
With whoever
And in each moment
Let go our fears.

You drove me
Home again tonight
And along the road
We passed a sign which asked
Do you know where you’ll be tomorrow?
Of all the streets,
Of all the towns,
Of all of the predictable possibilities,
I wondered alone
As we sat together,
Like we’d just slept together,
Like we’d just kissed each other,
I wondered was it a sign
Just for me?

The old man
Will cross my street
To the pub
Every night
Till his end,
Of this
I am sure
That he is sure.
But if tomorrow
I will again
Smell your scent
On my hands-
Of this
I am sure
That I’m not sure.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly


I am me but sad,

So recently and gloriously happy,

Now still me- but sad.


I am me- but have loved,

Made love and gave it,

I still do, but now angry.


I have screamed to deaf ears,

No one listens- deaf ears.


I have dreams but not wings,

If i did I would know where to fly,

This is not my dream-

Here and sad,

Here and angry,

Here, where no one listens,

Here, alone while others are flying



Yesterday, I had wings,

Once upon a time

I knew who I was,

Here, in this present-

Who knows?



The Value of a Single Word

I am in the air,

Above mountainous clouds

Of candy floss and cotton balls,

Flying between beds

That are not mine,

Sheets bound to frames

And pillows too puffed

To be personal.

I am the single sleeper-


On the right edge of center,

Using just one set

Of towels

Of the two provided,

Opening single slippers

And leaving that other robe

Hanging unused

And yet,

For all it’s

Impersonal touches,

I sleep in these foreign buildings,

In foreign cites,

In foreign lands

I can barely plot on the map,

Akin to sleeping at home

And tonight

I question

The geographical pull

And sentimental value

In the word

We call home

When you live

In this world

All alone.


Not One Fucking Tear

Fuck it!

Fuck it, I keep saying

To myself

In the place of

Bashing skull against wall.

Fuck it,

I stripped it all down for you,

Laid it physically

And mentally


And emptied myself

Of all my silly secrets

And petty principles

And all for this-

This insipid accomplishment of nothingness-

The fucking empty vacuum

Of the little you gave, offered, shared!

Are you greater for all you have stolen,

Am I reduced from all you have taken?

Was I but meat on the bone

To be scraped off,



Was there a thought,

Any thought,

A fucking single thought

Towards feeling

Or stand you sensorially deprived;

Incapable of consciously considering

The character of others?

Fuck it,

I say again,

Over and over,

As I sit here,

Fucked again

By the failure to forsee

The futile future

And yet, you stand there still

As if wounded,

As if innocent,

As if exempt

From all blame

While my blood drips slowly

From your tongue to toe.

Fuck you,

With your polished pristine pride

And mirrored glances

To catch but your own reflection.

You- with your caloused hands,

Chapped skin

And impenetrable heart

And that blood still falling

From tongue to toe-

Not yours, once mine.

I bled for you as you bore

Inside me,

As you bore me,


Over and over,

Bored me sensless

Until I found myself

With skull against wall

Looking for a door to open,

A handle to get a grip on,

Just something to latch onto

And pull me out.

Fuck this mess,

Fuck this situation,

Again and again,

All over again.

Fuck the promises you pissed away.

Fuck the potential that should have been.

Fuck those changes we talked about.

Fuck the Us that could have been We

While all along you only cherished

The Me that was You!

Fuck those fears I had

Of being alone,

Of missing you,

Of starting over-

Fuck it all away.

Days are passing now

And I have not shed a single tear,

Not one fucking tear for you.

Fuck you- no more!