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h09ap.bsky.social
I am not here at all.
@h09ap.bsky.social
220 followers 190 following 880 posts
🔞

Elder millennial. I write about the beautiful violence of being human. This is just my shitposting account.


https://cash.app/$h09ap
https://ngl.link/h09ap
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h09ap.bsky.social
Tenderism?
December 16, 2025 at 2:38 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
Broke its back and split it down the center. 🪓
December 16, 2025 at 2:24 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
Made lazy chicken and dumplings w/ biscuits.
chicken + dumplings made the I'm hungry as fuck and this is what I have in my fridge way
December 15, 2025 at 1:19 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
December 13, 2025 at 5:30 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Gonna rain today. Enjoying the weather while I still can. It's been a shit few months, but: gummies.
A leather-bound kindle sits next to two packs of thc gummiess. Keys rest atop the kindle holding down a dried leaf. My right palm holds two delta 9 gummies (5 mg).
December 13, 2025 at 5:20 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Apparently you can doordash gummies here. Who knew.
3 different kinds of thc gummies
December 13, 2025 at 2:53 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
Welcome to the club. Getting nerd fucked up today
December 11, 2025 at 8:08 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
A touring bike loaded in the back of a jeep with the rear wheel removed.
December 11, 2025 at 5:31 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Getting ready to bike, read, and write. Trying to meet the day where it finds me. Today, that might mean whiskey.
A brown Novara Safari bike with butterfly handlebars sits indoors on a wooden floor. The bike has orange pedals, a frame bag, and a large wire basket mounted on the rear rack holding a helmet and a tote bag. An idiot box is in the background. A collection of items spread across a brown couch. An olive CamelBak hydration pack sits beside several books: “Screams from the Balcony: Selected Letters 1960–1970” by Charles Bukowski, “Land of No Rain” by Amjad Nasser, “Shepherd of Solitude: Selected Poems” by Amjad Nasser, and “The Tao of Physics” by Fritjof Capra. A Kindle Paperwhite displays the cover of Tom Clancy’s “Executive Power.” Also visible are a grey cap that belonged to my brother, a wrist brace, a pocket knife, keys, a lighter, a wallet, cables, a sticker-covered MacBook, a black clipboard case, and a black backpack
December 11, 2025 at 5:23 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Can you tell me what this poem is about?

#poetry
a poem reads: "she took my soul to let it swim where her words live with throated hums and whispers that glid across my skin like water my body became her neck her hands my cradle home became the place where we met and chose not to end with devotional insistence our joint prayer became as ceaseless as the rest her eyes gave me— swallowing my tension with wholeness"
December 10, 2025 at 12:54 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
December 9, 2025 at 4:48 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Bored and hangry. Made lamb stew out of the lamb roast I froze from Thanksgiving.
Lamb stew from frozen Thanksgiving leftovers. Made using ginger beer, collard greens, celery, red bell peppers, parsley, corn, red onions, and a wee bit of leftover chimichurri. Served with rice.
December 9, 2025 at 1:58 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
Got this card earlier today.
December 9, 2025 at 12:46 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
A Psalm for the Mother of Memory (For the woman who gave me her hands before I knew how to hold anything) Blessed is the woman who sang to the moon with dishwater on her arms, who spun galaxies from laundry piles, who stitched dreams between the frayed edges of bills, whose voice I knew before I knew my own. She gave me my first language— not words, but warmth. The rhythm of her heartbeat was the first poem I ever memorized. She taught me to pray not with folded hands, but with open palms, with paint-stained fingers and a gaze that could see holiness in the broken, the bruised, the overlooked. She gave me art not as a lesson but as a way of seeing, as a survival— as breath. She made the world seem worthy of color In my mind, flowers bloom where she walks— cherry blossoms in November, marigolds breaking through concrete, ghost-lilies rooted in memory. She was my garden before I knew loss. My compass before I knew wandering. The first voice that called me worthy. She gave me stories before I could write, tales of courage whispered beneath blankets, mythologies of survival woven into bedtime. And now, as her mind fades— slow as dusk on the longest day— I become the keeper of those stories. Their lantern. Their monk. The woman who once brushed stars into my hair now forgets the years that wore down her name. She calls me “Love,” but sometimes does not know what love she speaks of. Still, I answer. I become memory’s steward. I carry her songs inside me, hum lullabies she no longer remembers inventing. I hold her grief like I once held her hand— gently, tightly, afraid to let go. She was the first one to see me. The first one to believe I was more than what this world would try to reduce. Her belief in me was not ambition— it was prophecy. She gave me fire and called it tenderness. She gave me silence and called it space. She gave me poetry and never once asked for credit. And now I give her back every good thing I have ever been. Every verse I write is an echo of her. Every act of care, a mirror. When the world speaks of saints, I think of her. Not with haloes or hymns, but with cracked hands, tired eyes, and a laugh that made even the dark things scatter. She is not gone. She is not vanishing. She is blooming backwards through me. Her forgetting becomes my remembering. I become the altar. The psalm. The son. The witness. For the woman who sacrificed me now becomes the one I sacrifice for. And I do so without resentment. Without regret. Only love— the kind that does not flinch at memory’s undoing. Even if one day she looks at me and does not know my name, I will still love her by the names she once called me. And I will remember for both of us. Because every good thing I am is her.
December 8, 2025 at 4:33 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
This is another clock app transplant. It was a love poem I wrote to my best friend. @cruorcrypt.bsky.social

Will repost as spoken word if that's a thing people wouqld like.
December 8, 2025 at 3:17 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
He's got that soul glow.
December 7, 2025 at 9:27 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
December 4, 2025 at 4:25 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Gonna watch it now! 💜 🙏🏿
December 3, 2025 at 9:24 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Feed me inspiration. What film should I be watching today? What book should I be reading on my Kindle?

Right and wrong answers accepted.

#filmrec #bookrec #kindlelibrary
#cultcinema #weirdlit
#writerbrain #feedmeart
Close-up of a Kindle screen showing its device name, “The Henry’ Bemis Library,” displayed at the top. The screen is open to the quick-settings menu, with icons for airplane mode, Bluetooth, dark mode, and a brightness slider. Kindle library screen showing “The Kitchen Readings: Untold Stories of Hunter S. Thompson,” “Jesus’ Son” by Denis Johnson, and “The Great Shark Hunt” by Hunter S. Thompson. Bottom row: “Women Who Run With the Wolves,” “Let Me In” by John Ajvide Lindqvist,” and “Cleave the Sparrow.” The very bottom edge of the screen shows the tops of three additional book covers: “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran, “Greatest Works of Oscar Wilde,” and “The Girl Who Drank the Moon.” Kindle home screen displaying books: “Being and Time” by Heidegger, a CompTIA certification book, the complete works of Robert Frost, Will Durant’s “The Story of Philosophy,” the complete works of Rousseau, and Descartes, Kant, Jung, and Nietzsche. Black-and-white photo of a person wearing a wolf-skull mask with hollow eye sockets and sharp skeletal teeth. They stand centered in the frame with their arms slightly raised, wearing dark clothing and a plaid shirt layered over a black tee with an obscured white smiley face.
December 3, 2025 at 5:25 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
December 3, 2025 at 2:19 AM
h09ap.bsky.social
December 2, 2025 at 9:14 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Life has a way of mapping your life on your hands. Mine carry life and death.

Sometimes caffeine and a notebook make it more legible.

#hands #treeoflife #death #coffee
Throwback to me and these scarred-up hands. Proof I’ve lived a little, survived a little, touched the world harder than it touched me. Good morning.
November 29, 2025 at 1:17 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Waiting for coffee. ☕
Downward shot of seated figure with legs open on a worn wooden floor, pink pants stretched forward, mismatched socks peeking from gray sneakers.
November 28, 2025 at 3:49 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
Thanksgiving reminder: these legs aren’t on the menu, but you’re welcome to give thanks anyway.

#blacksky #thickthighs #thirstsky #shortshorts #bw #hoochiedaddy
Black-and-white photo of a man standing in heart-emblazoned gym shorts and a hoodie. Legs framed on full display. The pose suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing. Because he does. You're welcome.
November 27, 2025 at 4:22 PM
h09ap.bsky.social
When you see this skeet a pic from your gallery to describe your mental health.
November 26, 2025 at 8:08 PM