THE STORY

  How does the heart still pump, how does the blood still run when these feet won’t move?   How do the bones not break, how does this skin not shed when these hands cannot hold?   We dress ourselves in solid shields of security (see this shining steel) that cannot sooth the single soul […]

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RESTLESS

  Only shadow remains as I slip away from myself, carving new forms out of old bones, eager for other arousals to press through the restless. All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly Based on a Twitter poetry prompt from #WrittenRiver

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