Zebadiah @kafkas-fish - Tumblr Blog

draw me april

praying to the Mother today asking if she can tell me my name

something so precise and exact as placing a hand on a window pane looking into a shop not only that you could never afford, but also something you would never want

thinking about being almost 15

someone told me once my hands are good for only a few things

remembering is a funny thing

if my fuckass finger would heal i could actually do something i wanted to but god forbid i ever do anything i really want to somewhere in his will when he died or something.

counting on one hand my words spoke aloud

crown of thorns, jack of diamonds, lucky penny (1943)

so does anyone have a crawl space i can live in or what

love how when we ask who people are they respond with the thing people call them instead of what they are.. no i dont, why dont we dig a little deeper there, does anyone believe in individualism anymore? does anyone really even hear themselves think? does anyone call someone and ask who they are and mean it to the extent i wish to share? nobody really knows me anyway, or at least i like to pretend its that way. because some people be seeing things, things i dont share and remain unsaid, but, maybe one day i'll say em or something.

do i have to be something really—why am i not just... existent? nothing is real, i guess thats why.

one of my favorite feelings is when i look in the mirror too long and stop recognizing what i tell myself i look like

girls are like brown sugar and honey and boys are like white sugar and

its pride month this means i can fuck al pacino

kafkas-fish

i love the poet in me i jst wish that poor soul didnt hate himself

kafkas-fish

but it evens out because i also hate like most other parts of myself, so theyre cool like that

i love the poet in me i jst wish that poor soul didnt hate himself

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