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![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreEach night, I step into the charred embrace of the firepits, where embers twist like tongues ...of prophets, lost to time—a seething choir of voices wailing hymns no saint could name. The blueprint for salvation burns at the edges, its...
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![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreThe last note fades… the soul is gone, bells toll low in hollowed air windows weep with frost’s embrace with a ghostly thread, "Get back to where you belong." With pale fingers tracing a lifeless face, lost in a...
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![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Damian DeadLove wrote a new post
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Read MoreWriting all my fears on an empty page Needing to share these random thoughts Looking for common ground to engage Never found it hard to connect the dots Chasing dreams in a game of chance I’m a realist when it comes to limitations Sure it...
9 Comments-
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![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Adagio. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
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![Profile picture of Willow]()
Oh, so totally resonates. I don’t know where I would be without my proverbial pen. And I spent far too many years perched in neutral…only to discover there is no such thing. Either your ass is leaning in one direction or your nose is. I prefer staying informed & walking the path that suits me. Shadows & all. And i find like souls along the way when living authentic. Consider this one on my reading list with emphasis, my friend
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![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Willow. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I wasn’t in neutral, but my wheels were always spinning. Either wound up in the ditch of life, or lost on an alcohol induced detour. Nowadays I’m living authentic as well, there’s shadows down every path I’ve found. Being aware and informed allows one to read the situation better. Thanks for the list.. Appreciate you.
Damian
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![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Mary. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Agreed, there is always more to the story. Appreciate you.
Damian
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![Profile picture of PAR (Paulo Acácio Ramos)]()
That’s beautifully reflective—wisdom framed not as some lofty concept, but as lived experience layered over time. The imagery of seasons and fences evokes quiet contemplation, hesitation, even resilience. That last line? A soft unraveling of illusion. It reads like a quiet reckoning.
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![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, PAR. So glad you connected with the write my friend. You’re spot on. I believe wisdom is acquired through time and experience. Always enjoy your commentary. Appreciate you.
Damian
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![Profile picture of Thomas W. Case]()
Superb work. Powerful.
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![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Thomas. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
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![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreUnder the fading twilight, the gecko rises, bones turned to obsidian, thick as thimbles of forgotten haints—their hollow fingers siphon shadows from the cracks in sunbaked clay.Dark spills across the linoleum, slow as sin, makes the soul go hidey-ho,...
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![Profile picture of M.E]()
Wow! This is a darkly, clever write! I liked the line “something holy is always rotting.”
I don’t totally agree with it but I liked that (I think) it sheds light on the duality of some religious figures. But that is only my take.
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![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Thank you. I write strictly fiction…no boohoo.
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![Profile picture of M.E]()
I see. I usually interpret everything I read with what-this-mean like mentality. Hahaha. Anyway. It was a good write. “)
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![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreThe city breathes in flickering tongues, asphalt veins pulsed black with rain,while neon priests in shattered glass chanted hymns to hollow pain.The gutters hum electric psalms, a choir of chrome and rusted chains,each streetlamp bows its fractured head to bless the hunger that...
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I liked this, Damian.