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The Octopus of Hate by Christopher-Stoll The Octopus of Hate by Christopher-Stoll
A Dream octopus, drifting from consciousness to
consciousness, invisibly alighting on a soft bed of hair to dip
a tentacle through skullbone for a sip of thought, a slurp of feeling; then drifting away, a scrap of sentiment still clinging to its bitter beak.

This creature is very real, a subconscious species of formless intellect that appears in human dreams as a floating orange and alabaster octopus. It consumes submerged desires and gorges itself on a variety of thoughts, the more potent, the more satisfying for this psychic predator.

It is sentient, and though typically uninterested in the affairs of its human victims, it will sometimes torment its prey with unwanted thoughts and feelings to provoke emotional reactions.

How do I know that this creature exists? How could I draw an invisible monster and present its terrifying face to the world?
Because I was visited by the octopus, like so many of us are, and I was told to leave her. It told me everything that was wrong with the relationship.
Eventually I listened, and for that I owe the octopus a debt that could not be fully payed in the meal of emotions it took from me.

The Knarled Granite Octopus of Hate
appeared unnoticed on shipwreck free shores, sinking grey tentacles
into a sandy bed of conclusions yet to be made.

“I never did like that
you wore,” The octopus said.
“It came off your shoulders
too much
Too often
you were like a little girl
Pulling it over your head
in front of my company.”

slippery intentioned
cephalopods, swimming in my hazy head
telling me all sorts of things

“I never let you see me
writing poems
because every one I wrote
was about
Wanting to leave you.”

I listened to the tiny hateful beak, gripped along my skull
rattling the chain of a membranous brain
and enjoying the anger of memories

“I woke up every day
because the side of the bed
I was on’
was yours."

These were the things that the octopus said, terrible things
I never repeated
but one.

“We were never going to
Marry,” I told the girl in the sundress.
“I loved the idea
And sometimes
I still do.
But it was never
Good enough
for all of that.”

I don’t know
if the octopus said that
or me.

The strangest grey octopus swam into my head,
telling me to feel in the razored tones of what I could conclude
and quiet octopus dreams
appearing unnoticed and passing unmourned.
Add a Comment:
Haikas Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Good work!
Objectionized Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
he's adorable :0 great work!! <3<3<3
TheChaosMuse Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2010
Break up with your girlfriend? You're octopus was gravely mistaken...
Christopher-Stoll Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2010  Professional Traditional Artist
my octopus was a long time ago ;) it was right... If it showed back up now I'd tell it how happy I am and it'd move onto someone else
granter-jack Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2010
Ha ha a witty poem. The octo sketch is cute.
Add a Comment:


Submitted on
March 23, 2010
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7.8 MB


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