samohub

[samohub]

RAIN ABOVE THE OCEAN

Clouds frosted over a sun gleam in the middle of the Atlantic today.

Each droplet, a vial of shimmering broken glass, returning to its window pane.

An unseen beauty, bestrewing awe to wander adrift and desultory- like steam over a cold lake.

It reminds me of a dream’s minutiae… distortions of a painting, glanced upon with tired eyes. Warped architectures, lost to my own memory. A beauty that now only exists in some never to be seen again dimension.

I’ve dipped my toes into that dimension. Under the moonlight, in the back of my beater, breathing hot misty love, splattering against cold windows. Leaving a fog only to be known to us. Its coat still hangs on both our minds

But like rain above the ocean, this memory of a fog falls to an impermanent dimension, as we return to the clouds.

[samohub]

4 AM (Written October 13th, 2023)

This, is how I am starting my day.

There is something in me that constantly desires terrible things. At least an eighth of my heart seems to be dedicated to depravity. It takes all the rest of my heart to suppress it.

Awful things, to be sure, but also self destruction. Perhaps, it acts as a demolition button. Maybe I’ll find it useful one day.

For, if some soul shattering event happens, there may be nothing left but that button. Does my body wish to start anew? No, these are all coping mechanisms. It is bad. It is unromantical sin. God does not forgive unromantic sins, you know.

6 PM (Written today.)

Karen Byrne reclined in a soft blue doctor’s chair—never just herself again.

After the surgery, her left arm moved on its own. Throwing items. Unclothing herself. Slapping her. Stabbing her. Even attempting to suffocate her.

She had to use her whole body to stop her left hand.

It’s called Alien Hand Syndrome.

My hand stirs. I don’t kill people because of you.

AHS raised questions of the soul, of consciousness.

If Karen didn’t control her hand—who did?

I know your love once controlled my left hand.

With your love severed, my soul shattered.

My brain split.

My left hand will sever me further. So much further.

It’s said that deep in Karen’s brain lived another consciousness—

a dangerous one,

with no mouth,

screaming to die.

My left hand twitches toward the button.

Maybe if I’d told you before it was too late, you would’ve maintained the facade.

Maybe you would’ve tied me down past your death.

But I see now—your strings, retractable as tape measurers.

Just as flexible.

My left hand is now the voice of that screaming, dangerous consciousness.

And this time, I can’t use the rest of my body to stop it.

God will forgive this sin.

It is one of romance.

[samohub]

OZYMANDIUS

If my life was a home,

I’d never bothered to get any furniture.

I’ll let spilled tea, stain the hardwood.

And allow roaches to clean my dishes.

For this house is doomed to burn,

So I’ve carefully selected the essentials.

A bed, a wooden desk, a small lamp, thin paper, and a pencil.

Because my only hope,

Is when fire dances on ink and paper,

The ashes will look different,

Float away, up in the sky,

And someone may mistake it for a constellation.

And in someone else, I have escaped the fire.

[samohub]

This poem is about love driving a man to insanity.

I LOVE YOU

Your hand.

As I hold your hand, my brain spirals into a concentrated tornado, remembering every single time I held it- as if I never had again. Dainty fingers. You radiate heat in winter, and emanate cold in spring.

Your cheeks.

I believe I fell in love with them before anything. When I am decrepit and old, when my consciousness joins the billions of others, and even into my next life; I will remember their cardinal glow as our lips first met.

Your eyes.

I’ve always considered myself an unlovable man, Almuerza. In my youth, I had thrown away the idea that I could live in the luxury of love. This self-adage I imposed oh so long ago… i-it had became bounded to my soul- nay it WAS my soul- a soul lamented in its acceptance of despair!

…

But… oh I’m a mess…

I hate gristle…

As I was telling you… when I stared into your wide eyes, I saw my own reflection. I saw myself through your eyes, and I felt that… that love! That I was a human being, a human being who not only needed love, not only deserved it… but truly had it in its purest form… from the most perfect soul.

You left me no choice, you see?

Man may survive a broken heart, but a broken soul…? You… you gifted me a soul, so I thought it safe to leave it with you. But no… I gave you everything… and you chewed it up. This is only fitting. I love you, and so I must do this. This is love. This, is perfect love.

…

Do you forgive me, Almuerza? No, what is there to forgive? I have made us one, Almuerza. In my next life, I will always have a part of you. You will always be apart of me!

Your rib?

My rib?

It tastes so good, Almuerza. Our rib.

[samohub]

[samohub]

[samohub]

Poem about reincarnation:)

[samohub]

Tasty! :P

[samohub]

[samohub]

[samohub]

[samohub]

[samohub]