HOW STRANGE IT IS TO HAVE AN ARCHITECT
WHO DREW THE BLUEPRINTS OF MY HOUSE
WHO BUILT THE HOUSE WITH THEIR BARE
HANDS, JUST DEMOLISH ALL THAT I KNEW
WITH THE FATHER OF ALL BOMBS. ALL THAT
WAS ALIVE MERELY EVAPORATED FROM MY
VERY EYES. WAS I TOO STUBBORN TO SEE
YOUR EYES START TO WAIVER WHENEVER
YOU LOCKED EYES WITH ME? YOU COULD
BRING MERCY TO AN ENTIRE COUNTRY IF
YOU TRIED, BUT YOU LIT SOMETHING ON
FIRE IN ME, STARTING FROM THE TIPS OF
MY VERY FINGERS, FROM THE TIP OF MY
TONGUE, TO THE CRACKS IN MY FACADE
I FILL IN WITH PRETTY LITTLE LIES.
IS THIS PERSON SOMEONE I AM SUPPOSED TO
BE OKAY WITH? I MEAN, I FELT SMOKE
RISING FROM MY THROAT LIKE A
CHIMNEY AND NO SMOKE ALARM
TOLD ME IT WAS A WARNING OF A
PRICE I WOULD HAVE TO PAY. NOW
I AM GIVEN MY ARCHITECT'S HAND,
AND DESPITE HOW MUCH OF A
TRAITOR THEY PROVED TO BE IN THE
PAST, SOMETHING IN ME WANTS TO
CRY. I WANT TO GRAB THIS FAMILIAR
HAND,  BUT I DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT
TO TOUCH YOU. I WILL WAIT UNTIL
YOU UNDERSTAND.

MOVE YOUR HANDS FROM MY REACH.
THEY HAVE THE CORRUPTED EFFECT
OF THE MIDAS TOUCH. THEY ARE A
PLAGUE. STAY AWAY FROM ME.

I HAVE THE CORRUPTED EFFECT OF
THE MIDAS TOUCH. I AM YOUR MOST
ACQUAINTED SHAME. WHAT IS IN
STORE FOR THIS CLOSED DOOR, FOR
THIS DOOR IS OPEN AND I CAN'T
REACH OUT TO IT. YOU HAVE
BROUGHT A COUNTRY TO IT'S KNEES,
BEGGING FOR MERCY, AND I CAN'T
EVEN GET MY DOG TO SIT FOR ME
FOR ONE ******* SECOND.

WHY AM I NOT COMFORTABLE WITH YOUR
ABSENCE YET? AND WHY DO I STILL CARE?
WHY DO I STILL TAKE THIS EXPLOSION LIKE NOTHING?

- kra

You were always
the bit

where the map creased & tore
leaving us unsure

looking through a hole
at our own big toe.

You were always
the bit

where the map was folded in four
and had to be awkwardly unfolded

just to see
where you were.

You were always
the bit

that was just off this map

ending in mid air...

...see next map:

...the missing map!

You were always
the lost map.

You were often
the wrong map.

The map that there was...

. . .no map of!

Dalya sits
in some bar
beside me

in Oslo
she sipping
a cool beer

me likewise
smoking too
how was she

last night then?
I ask her
what you mean?

you make it
sound as if
I had ***

with the *****
I meant how
did it go?

just the same
on about
the men she's

had *** with
as if I
cared a ****

who she's had
between her
skinny thighs

Dalya says
and how's he
the Aussie

you share with
in the tent?
he's ok

but his talk
is mostly
on good beer

or luscious
hot Sheilas
typical

just like men
Dalya moans
what do you

talk about
to the dame
in your tent?

I ask her
nothing much
certainly

not about
my *** life
she then sips

her cool beer
eyeing me
do you talk

to him then
that Aussie?
she asks me

sure I do
what about?
about beers

of the world
and cricket
and how long

it takes him
to wake up
after ***

you never
she utters
spluttering

a mouthful
of warm beer
over me

I like it
how her eyes
light up bright

like small stars
on a cold
frosty night.

Maybe i am schizophrenic
Maybe i am crazy
Maybe life is something i haven't realized yet
I am on pills
I am not normal

I am beaming at my best friend's wide eyed awe
I shiver of sweetness when my boyfriend grabs the last slice of pizza
I tremble at my niece's grinning face when she has told a lie

What are you?
In which planet do you suspect a hot beating heart?
In yours?
In mine?

Whose heart is whose
Is not the question -
By the way.