Voukah [Voo-kah]; home

can you see me?

sometimes i wonder

if you even notice me.

money

there are reasons why i abhor the concept of money.

not having any isn’t one of them.

having too much isn’t one either.

so don’t fucking gauge my worth through man’s filthy, argent coat of despair.

if all you see is confusion as to what price tag i come with,
you are not worth my time.

a mind rich with the ability to philosophise and ponder why suffering must occur
is the only indignation dollar
worth touching my skin.

so fuck off if you can’t please me with wealth.

(can i still come over?)

i don’t know

if you ask me what i’m doing here, i wouldn’t know.

» Keep reading.

Another Recycling of Seemingly Nothing

How do you tell someone who won’t look you in the eye you see something right to the core of their pupils? How do you tell someone there’s nothing for you to say because there’s just too much to?

All of that could flow away if it never started.
Like it never started.
Maybe even better that it could have never.

But sometimes I still wonder
if what I fear is not rejection
but being lied to again.

If I could figure things out that easily, I would never need to think.

Maybe you can save me. Maybe you can kill me.

But regardless.

i’m already a dead vessel.