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Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreNo cold moon interred in empty cupboards buried deepwith the scent of cheap cigars lingering sweet ashesof heavy bones whispering obsidian's glass neglecting the memory of closing chapters in contradiction's experience under the influence of inclement weather and cheap...
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Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreThe notorious empty space on my Lenovoghost of unspoken goodbye you left behind shifting the air with your shape, lingeringnear the Alt-Delete dripping tear of insomnia into a mug that you left behind when youupgrade to Windows 11
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Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreOrigin of shadows, predators of night nullifying light, born from the absence of all things. Hungryfor the souls of Genesis rising and creating parasites, called Homo Sapiens before the chickencrossed the road. Hosting the hunters. Eating their Wheaties
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Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreBlow the wind down against the rusted gallows of decayand broken bones swallowed by the cold fingers of thenarrator's aftershave and 5 o'clock shadow echoing theanvil, tying the man down
2 Comments-
![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Thank you. It’s all fiction. I write 90% fiction.
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![Profile picture of RomaJ]()
This feels like opening a box of old keepsakes -tender, nostalgic, and a little bittersweet. Lovely write
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![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Memories of an easier time when the grass was sweet. Thank you for reading.
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![Profile picture of Julie]()
Absolutely loved it. The art too !
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![Profile picture of Atticus Abbey]()
Thank you, Julie
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Dear Poet, this poem is a brutal, metallic self-imprisonment. The rusted gallows, the echoing anvil, the cold, pressing imagery – I can feel the inescapable weight of existence in every line. Even the aftershave lingers