sohamm

i write alot

work in progress. made for desktop.

i keep meaning to write more. lately it's been easier to just let things sit.

i wish to write alot so when i am gone, i can leave pieces of myself in pages of a books, which by all means would be used to pack salty groundnuts

i write poetry, essays, and some more stuff <3 hope you enjoy this

i will update this blog weekly every sunday cutu's, will keep you updated, i will learn more stuff and share it :)

last updated march 2026

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hi. i made this to have somewhere on the internet that's mine.

i like music a lot. i listen to alot of albums will keep yall updated.

i try to write alot but its mostly dogshit and unicorn piss, but yea i try.

i hope my work brings a smile on your face or a tear depending on the context.

if something here meant something to you that's nice. you don't have to tell me but you can, really love yall <3.

some things i like:

music, i enjoy new music
books, i read a lot of books, will keep yall updated on that too
chess, i am currently rated 1750
poetry and stories, i read alot and like to think i am a writer too
coffee, HELL NAH F*CK YOU, I HATE COFFEE, LOVE COKE THO <3
baking, been into that lately <3
garderning, been into that too nowadays

this site uses no tracking, no cookies, no bs, just made by a sweet bi kid. it's just html and some love.

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songs i like, compiled into mixes · and things i've been listening to

recent mixes

been listening to lately (no order)

liability - drake
candy - cameo
ice melts - drake and thug
softly — clairo
let down — radiohead
bad bad bad - thug
black hole sun - soundgarden
white ferrari — frank ocean
mom's greens - marshawn
my old ways - tame impala
sometimes - my bloody valentine

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post nut

umm hiii.

tracklist:

opening — william basinski
paper bag — fiona apple
the pony man — gordon lightfoot
i was made for you — the free design
wild is the wind — nina simone
motion picture soundtrack — radiohead
i'll keep it with mine — nico
soft place to land — kathleen edwards
everyone is waiting — boards of canada
lament — grouper
you've changed — billie holiday
dissolve — midwife
fond farewell — elliott smith

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lord forgive i, a thot

i am indeed a thot

tracklist:

disintegration loops 1.1 (excerpt) — william basinski
january hymn — the decemberists
casimir pulaski day — sufjan stevens
cold — annie lennox
mushaboom — feist
the night will always win — manchester orchestra
lua — bright eyes
skinny love — bon iver
sometimes i wish we were an eagle — bill callahan
fade into you — mazzy star
the shining — badly drawn boy

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fuck you sohamm

nah i am just playing, love you sosa.

tracklist:

two weeks — grizzly bear
cheerleader — st. vincent
your ex-lover is dead — stars
such great heights — the postal service
neighborhood #1 (tunnels) — arcade fire
do you realize?? — the flaming lips
holocene — bon iver
first day of my life — bright eyes
transatlanticism — death cab for cutie
re: stacks — bon iver
lua — bright eyes

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poetry

gasoline and cats

Smell the gasoline, as I walk past me My clothes don't fit anymore, dollar sign Lit up the light and care for a fire me Good will, I say burn some deeds and memories, A tape which leak of a naked tree fucked by the big sea set her free, she loves gasoline, walk past me Small fishes know, devour ones rather than myself, i count one set free with the bee tear My clothes and burn ME too will drip honey, consent you neither take gasoline & light the flames, flesh & clothes in the fire they all the same 9, my age, I wish to dissolve and end up where the smoke reches the bones of fish I see the cat is dead too, but by who me or you? set her free pour me in gasoline burn her & me, set us free. (The smell of gasoline as i walk past my cooked meat, Chew on it you might see yourself in dreams, My flesh & bones, sprite and coke, battery acid, It takes guys to kys too, do it & take me with you) The cats & dogs which rained, end up hungry on Street, Murder, set souls free, but blood on you will blind you bee, who are you without prescribed sympathy and fake ass conditional love

anti-christ sohamm

Dream, i of a little life in Paris Where my work is to write lies and hope Plant ideas in the minds of ants Write every word, like wordsworth, i understand everything, like the sonnets I am worth everything i worte, I am not you, I act, I have light, & know the source too preach the dead god, join me too Throw storms at me or might get a pair of eyes too so, you see the sight, I paint on the dead girl i killed christian, anti-christ her bag, she asked me once bout her nails, ugly, I told her to get french tips I will to erase entire religious on this basis, make a god out of the shelf of miniso, and remind you this is a bullshit

sohamm the wisest of owls, and slimiest of snakes

who keep me awake, the wisest of owl whooting the wisdom to be, i close door i i i, an arrogant being, i mock him, by rolling my eyes, he looked peety, Turn his head 360 like brat that head is flicked him away, i I I arrogant being who am I to use that i one hour I wonder to change the world through play, the next, I talk to a girl eating her off like last slice of cake, Who am we? I can just wonder the identity clash in me, I wish there was timer too, I got 2 crowns might get a third one too Sell my morality and vision for a cup of tea on day, Bitch stop using ai, i walk bipolar, I might extinct one day, the wisest of owls is me, & the horrid evil too i won't open the door, The owl & the god are me either way i come in hourly repetitions on eveyday even the i the author will extinct in while, who in the first line was the reference to the owl noise

Shallow work like myself

back in the heat, i wish for the rain & the mud distain myself, in pain, as i weep for rain all summer, rain does come around, I don't nut now I want the chill breeze of winter so I return to my palace of baffons Where i am the king & the day is night & night is day where gold is worthless, & my favourite leaf is what used, king of sort kind of baffons, sohamm walks with man dressed up as a lion claming he tamed a beast In my kingdom, the women & the men & the "others" love with peace I am the king & the doom, as i please, they keep me happy, i wish for the maids to feel me chocolates and cake one day these commoners retaliate, i exile and murder the kids and the wifes and the sperm donees Alas it just me back in heat, I wish for rain and mud Wet myself in pain as i weep all summer now who am I king to? the dead? say boo-hoo at night & I will be scared the whole field are now graves where i used to watch plays

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essays / blog · longer thoughts, written when, you know what, even i dont know :(

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the death of 6 chicks

march 2026

More than I hate zesty old people who have to give opinions on everything they lay their eyes on hold on, old bones, you will lie on the bed of death soon. I hate evenings. There is something in the air that feels off. There is a sense of disruption that doesn't let me stay in my study for long. It feels like something from the outside realm is calling me, which I hate to answer. There is this imaginative feeling of loud noises people returning home, birds coming back to their nests, children playing. As much as I hate to admit it, it takes away my attention from my dead four walls, so under protest, I still decided to take care of some work.

I had to get groceries. Normally, this would have been a small and kind of monotonous task, but today, as weird as the charm of this particular evening is, there was an old beggar in front of the store—rags for clothes, covered in dust from head to toe. One look at him and you would be displeased enough to run a few steps back. He begged for my attention through his hands. He was mute (this term "mute" is so outdated; we need to make a new word for people who can't speak ASAP). He signed for me to look at him. On closer inspection, it was very obvious that the man had no shoes, and he was looking at me and pointing towards mine. I understood what he meant but decided to ignore him because I like my slip-ons, and as the piece of shit human being I am, I would let someone else have the good karma of helping the needy. I went my way after the groceries, even though I left the man at the store. But he didn't leave me. You wonder why some people are more blessed than others and why life is so unfair to some. I am no exception, I thought. I joke about this a lot: I am blessed with the beautiful curse of misery, which seems to find her way to me. I imagine her all pretty and gothic and alternative, and she keeps running behind me, finding ways to make me take notice of her. She is a hopeless romantic for me. The man, in the hot summer, must be burning his feet on the cruel concrete. I wonder how he lived his life. Did he have a chance to love someone like I did? Did he have friends to laugh with? Did his mother nag him too? Did he sleep with a smile on his face after having a nice dinner? Did he get the most basic smiles I take for granted in my own life? I felt more privileged than ever. Privilege is the real loss of sight. Privilege, unless you are constantly aware of it, will make you go blind, because when you are privileged enough, you often don't realize how to be grateful for the little things life has offered you and that sucks. The greed to always want more comes naturally to you. It's a human intention, to be greedy to its core.

Now, filled with the clouds of these random thoughts, I reached another store from where I had to get eggs. Almost autonomously, I paid the money, got my bag of eggs, tied it to the hook of my bike, and kept thinking about the old beggar. Funny how life is, right? As I was driving away, I bumped into a pothole, and all the eggs broke. I could see that sight in slow motion, how they kind of jumped out of the bag they were hostages in. In a split second, my dinner was on the street, broken down into shells and yellow. But I didn't stop. I saw it happening, and I didn't even care to stop my ride—not even a brake, not even a slight turn. I just went along. How funny the world humbled me so quickly. I wanted to mourn the death of my six chicks, shed a tear or two, feel like a pathetic human being because I had just wasted food. I went the way I came. There was something on my head I wanted gone—the old man. I thought of giving him my slip-ons now.

To my surprise, the shadow of the night had caught him, because there was no one.To my surprise, the shadow of the night had caught him, because there was no one.

I went home, slept in my bed, and never thought about the eggs and the old man ever again (lies). Because sometimes, at the end of the day, well, it's the end of the day. You just gotta close those damn eyes and sleep.

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the blind duck

january 2026

i knew a blind duck once, he was not partially bind he was completely blind, like dead blind, the type of blind where all you can see is pitch darkness, i wonder how that felt, the duck had a family and friends too, the family of the duck loved the duck dearly, so they whispered it in his ears, his little duck ears, but every time he heard anyone saying something the duck used to start quacking, louder and louder faster and faster the duck never knew what the whispers were, the duck was fine with that, the duck, as his reality was imagined the world pitch as dark, the duck, never figured out what the ducks whispered in his ears, the duck died one day, the duck blamed his misfortune and lovelorn life on the duck god, the duck god unlike my god was kind, he forgave the duck and this time sent him back with the clearest eye sight the duck, again was blind lovelorn, the duck died again in a pit me and my god laughed as we watch duck die it was divine joke, with malice laughter there was no heaven for the duck, he will find hell everywhere.

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victorian tits - work in progress

november 2025

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books · things i've read, loved, hated, and thought about too much