my eyes hurt all the time
like i've just been crying
i think i'm just tired
its hard to focus on what anyone is saying
nothing is satisfying me
what am i working towards?

i can't do anything except
listen to music and stare
at nothing

the things i used to be good at
are no longer my talents it seems
i've let things slip away
i mean look at this poem!
it's a ****** mess
no effort put into it
but you see i just can't right now
i'm all strung out
i don't really feel anything

I want to go to a record store with you
we can spend the little money we have left
on The Smiths, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd
for an hour or two we can be angsty teens in the 80s
who drink cheap beer and steal our parents cars
lets pretend were running away
from home, from school, from everything we know
I wanna lay on the floor of your apartment
put a record on the turntable and hear that sweet crackle
we'll listen to what we've bought
and pretend we're watching the stars through the ceiling
they'll dance to the beat like a laser show in our eyes
while mind blowing guitar riffs and drum beats fill our spirits

-kk

Today I awaken on the first day of July
with sun rays in my eyes
and lighting in my veins.
I refuse the past tense because I am right now alive
fresh and full of potential energy.
It is a new month
in the thicket of summer
anything can happen
I am surely just a child
I could be anyone
I can do anything I want
there are no limits
except the mental barriers
I can decide to place before myself.
I am grateful for this moment
and blessed that it can continue into many more.

I had so many chances
to give us a chance
I passed you in the hallways so many times
but I just shuffled by casually
and pretended you were just another boy
but you most certainly were not
oh no, not to me.
We conversed with our eyes
and they told me enough to know
that you wanted me too
I knew, oh I knew
but on that last day
I made a most detrimental mistake
and instead I decided that my nerves
were worth more than my heart.

-kk

I'm the mistress of emotion
I try to avoid his eye during the day
pretending I've never seen him before
but the truth is I'm at his every beck and call.
Just you wait and see,
I promise you he'll appear in the doorway
flashing his enticing smile
just when I'm trying to fall asleep.

I have a crush on love
but we've never met me before
I watch him from afar in the schoolyard
yet I've never made a move
I need to stop worrying and waiting
for him to introduce himself.

I'm the assistant of suppression
I help him with his careful work
I fold all of my fears and pains
and make them fit into tiny boxes
so they can be stored away on a basement shelf
and someday found again to open with surprise
forcing me to finally deal with everything inside.

-kk

i'd like to say that poetry could be my profession
but that would be like saying
that spewing my emotions and dark thoughts
across the shelves of a bookstore
is a profession.
i could never make someone clean that up.

(and still face them again)

Mellow yellow
sitting softly
on the palette.
Waiting to be used.
Hoping someday,
to be the masterpiece
in the hall.

-kk

now i don't even try
and say hi
if theres a person i don't know in the room
such a drastic difference
from how i was a few months ago
i hate this
i have so much anger
but i feel so dry and i don't have the energy to express it
i think my eyes are just welling from tiredness
**** this **** hole that i used to love so much
my room feels like a pig pen
and my sheets don't feel clean even when i wash them
people irritate me beyond words sometimes
but mostly im so mad at myself
for being so content with laziness, cowardice
everything moves so slowly
and i get dragged along each day
im scraped up like my knees
**** i need a band aid

some may think me a pessimist
even i begin to think so some days
but then there are things like lentil soup
tastes like mama's dinner bell laughs
and yesterdays that have lost their prowl
and it's also healthy?
a thing with no flaws
seems too good to be true
but it is true, it is.

sometimes
i look out at the velvet sky at night and i wish i were the moon,
when she is out no one can compare to her luminous beauty,
she is the fairest one,
and yet,
she always manages to stay modest in her delicate black veil,
perfectly draped,
around her silhouette.

sometimes
i stand out in the exposed bright of day and i wish i were the sun,
without her the world would be a cold and lifeless place,
she is the reason for countless beaming smiles,
and yet,
she can burn their gentle skin with a single impassioned glare,
blazing with power,
and perfect precision.

but sometimes,
on occasion, i look into the mirror,
and i can see the shimmering specks in my eyes,
and the light streaming from my hair and eyelashes,
and i realize,
that wishing for the sun and moon is pointless,
when i can be the stars.

-kk

Today I found myself in a bookstore
and somehow of course
I ended up in the poetry section
and then suddenly 16 dollars were gone
from my bank account
and were sat in my hand
in the form of a book of poetry
by Billy Collins

I've spent so many hours writing with no direction
that I forgot how much I delight in reading poetry
until I dove into the wave again
headfirst without dipping my toe in
and that wonderful feeling returned
that often comes with tasting a delicious work of art
and makes you want to give a slice of word-filled cake
to everyone who comes your way

My father happened to be the first
his gentle eyes listened as they always do
and he commented on the smile
that had decided to take up residence on my face while I read
the heavy kind, that weighs down and warms
leaving lines in all the right places
always making the wearer much prettier, no matter what

It is in moments like these,
that I am quite sure
I will never need resort
to alcohol
nor any other form of drug
to keep me willingly dancing through life

-kk

i will never again wrap my arms around you
in the same way that i will never again
wrap my mind around the idea that i was not enough for you.
i am enough and i will always be enough.
i am all that i have
At the end of the day when the sun is not there
to give my thoughts and surroundings a warm glow
and there are no voices or bodies around but my own
all that i have and all that matters
is what exists behind my eyelids
it is there that i grow and turn darkness into my canvas
for raising light, love, and potential
while my body slowly ages.
i am enough
or else you did not see me.

i am a doll
i want to be adored
i am a flower bud
i want to open up
i am a glittering star
i want to be watched
i am a glass of sweet tea
i want to be savored
i am a potential poem
i want to be written

-kk

i am a little soda bottle
but not an empty one
there's much more than air in my neck
i'm full of the most dazzling drink
you've never had.
thousands of tiny bubbles
buoyantly waiting to break the surface
it's just no one's taken the time
to open me yet.

-kk

I want to write a poem
that brings the girl
with the stone eyes
to tears
that will melt away
her barrier of misery
like a butter mint
in the mouth

I want to write a poem
that gives the man with
permanent frown lines
and worn leather skin
a sparkle in his eye
and fulfillment in his breath

I want to write a poem
that makes the heartbeat
a little bit louder
or softer
or stronger
or momentarily
skip

I want to write a poem
that allures people into
staying up until 4 am
searching for others alike
that will give them
the same kind of clarity
in this very cloudy world

-kk

Your eyes delight me
entice me
I want to dip and bloom
in soft blue lagoons
but as I lay next to you
my body is stone
every movement I've seen
play out in my dreams
a simple word from my lips
head moving closer to rest
in the boat of your chest
but I'm frozen
this duvet an ocean
alone each night
I bathe with delicate hands
and tonight in the moonlight
you're here with me
for a midnight swim
I want you to read my face
and see that I'm drowning
please kiss me
and be patient

then I am the paper.
Scissors were made
to cut through me,
and we all know that
paper doesn't actually
have anything on a rock.

Today as I look upon the hues in the sky
like pinwheel art
flaring and burning out
slowly softer,
such a perfect light
complementary to all
it caresses
I am saddened
as I realize
my most treasured time of day
is the one closest to its end
forcing me to notice
how little time I have left
with its beauty
till the night comes

i'm walking home alone
the tide is high
i can smell the salty marsh
the light is enveloping but soft
a watercolor painting
descends upon me
golden hues of orange and pink
are hanging above

Today someone told me
i wouldn't get very far
because i love writing
not science
because i love literature
not mathematics
because i love using my mind to create
not replicate
i'm sorry
but these are the only things
pushing me to pull the covers
off my body every morning
so they will to have to be enough
i'm sorry for your closed mindedness
i'm sorry for your blindness
i hope that this disability of yours
has not stopped your dreams
and it sure as hell won't stop mine

We have different views.
In you I see my dreams
while you dream of another.

-kk

there is something wistful
about the way the cars move along
and the way I am watching them
with such diligence
from my aloof window
even up here in my leather seat
i feel a connection to their humanity
the urgency in which they scamper
through the streets and the
sunlight
so comforting in its afternoon glow
that it makes me melancholy
because as it has reached its peak
and will soon be gone.

isn't it funny the way we assume?
that this honey veil will be draped once again?
anticipating the glint of another windshield
as if it is written down in Time's script?

there is something sad
about the way we presume connection
with one another and with nature
the way we reflect ourselves
our existence
onto the tiny people laughing in the parking lot
and the trees that speak no tongue at all
only the language of perpetual existence
that we try desperately to decipher
with our limiting words

she is a delicate rose
at the dawn of winter
withering grey edges
hem her vibrant petals
-kk

Onetime, I hit rock bottom
but it wasn't really rocky at all
it was actually pretty soft
it felt like my bed
in the middle of a messy room
that went unnoticed
because there was nothing
to provoke me to care
there was no feeling
soft was just a sensation, no emotion involved
I could've been laying on a rock
but it would've just given my nerves
a different pattern of stimulation
it would've just been another irrelevant reality
separate from me.
The phrase was coined "rock bottom" to scare people away
because feeling nothing is worse than feeling a rock
bludgeon your body
because when you feel nothing there is no reason
to ever come back to the surface
and live.

today, on valentine's day
i'm glad i'm back home
because otherwise
i'd probably run into you
in the hallway
or as i'm walking out the door
and you'd pretend you don't notice me
as you lately always do
that
or i'd just be alone in my room
lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling
thinking about how we both live in the same building
and both want each other
but nothing's going to happen.
it's utterly pathetic
and seems to be a common trend for my love life in college
so far.
i'm just ******* because i know this is cliche
but we are so compatible
and i think your hair and laugh and scrunchy smile are adorable
(and those dumb red high tops you always wear that oddly attract me to you more)
and i'm annoyed
that you threw it all away because of your nerves
and honestly who the hell knows
what is it about me that always scares people away?
just one of many questions i am left to ponder
alone in my bed.

sitting in the car, radio on
a poet died today
his name was Phillip Levine
87 years old
a good substantial lifetime
"Found Poetry On Detroit's Assembly Lines"
he wrote about assembly line workers all his life
how boring one may think
but for me something clicked
poets are just lovers, synonymous
finding beauty in the dust and streetlamp light
taking it in and falling deeply for years
there are those with many love affairs
but Phillip was a loyal partner
Detroit assembly lines his lifelong fiancee
making him raw, bringing him meaning
to him, the world
and to share it was all that mattered.

i usually make jokes at myself
because to some people
celibacy is funny
and what better way to cover up insecurity
yes i could have *** i guess
but i'm stuck in a comfortable place
where i've put it just out of reach
and i haven't allowed my muscles to stretch
yes i could have *** i guess
girls and boys alike have expressed interest
but whenever i get close
i plan a carefully elusive escape
a "coincidental" blockade
i may have put it there myself
but forgive me for being picky
not everyone has the skill of hurling themselves
please, don't call me a tease
i just have to sniff around before i know what i want
and usually, i've discovered
i don't

words on every corner
reach out with LED lights and capital letters
OVERSIZE LOAD and RECYCLED FASHION
demand an appetite for peripheral attention
bashful graffiti is tentative to show his smirk
unsure if he is welcome in this delicate urban zoo
where ponytailed dogs and homeless hands
share the same sallow sidewalk bricks

look up!
see the royal sorbet sky
he raises his wispy brows
as a crane lowers its dragon neck
into the safety of its concrete den
how dare such a beast encroach  
on the heavenly domain of clouds

all day a man sits in contradiction
crisp collar and stolen office chair
handing out desperate news for dollar bills
as tattered as his tiny hands

I wonder if the cigarette ****
feels worthless, now alone
dreaming to once again be puffed
being flattened by rubber soles

years ago this was home land
rich, taut and quietly loved
the earth soaked in moon's pearl balm
where his eyelashes touched the ground

Everybody knows the city always listens
through the scattered trees left here to stand
when our footsteps seem like only feathers
lost in the echoes of civilization

street now veiled by velvet
a cradle for eyes to close
the lamplight is my guiding star
i see illuminated faces
in hazy windows
and the flash and beam
of passing car

I used to write joyful poems,
pointing out simple wonders,
such as how raindrops glisten on a mushroom’s ruby top.
But now the mushroom is only a dullish gray to me;
Everything is wrong.
My feet are cold and numb;
they have nowhere to walk.
My fingers are limp and uninspired;
they have nothing to type.
Outside my door are the sounds of people losing hope and patience;
they keep me inside.
As does the white fog of uncertainty I can’t seem to look past.

-kk

I often sneak out at night
and stand alone in the deserted street
the air almost as crisp as my loneliness severe
and soak in the beauty that is the world
standing still
completely motionless
from my perspective.
A world so noiseless that it leaves an echo
of silence in my ears
and quiet becomes a sound.
Every problem that attacks my mind at day
dissolves into the velvet sky
nothing matters
everyone is sleeping
vulnerable and at peace.
I feel a connection with my surroundings
and for a small moment
I get a glimpse of tranquility
that cannot be described
with any combination
of a meager 26 letters.

-kk

dim
one small lamp
listening to dreams by fleetwood mac
instead
i let the music sprinkle light in my head
rays enter me like a transparent lens
my feet are moving but i didn't ask them
the rhythm has control of my muscles,
singing limbs
i'm an accepting hostage
strumming on the guitar
behind my eyelids
i could slide through life like this for years

take a moment every day to be thankful
pen out your love
onto paper or into your thoughts
for the bed that cradles you
for the sun that kisses you
for the air that fills you endlessly
for the body and mind that give you purpose
for the people that need you among hundreds
and would feel empty in your absence
you are alive by these gifts
to embrace them is to be eternally wealthy

Her eyes shiver with delight
green light flooding her lovely body
an arrangement of fluttering notes
laughter paralyzingly genuine always upon her lips
only passionate bright things in her face
her presence twinkles in the minds around her
This is how he sees her
always
a glimpse around every corner
at every “little party”
through the champagne haze and loud primary colors
her figure only grows more vivid with the night,
drawing him closer, his hand outstretched to the past.
Not even the grandest of golden gestures
nor any number of diamond faced companions
could make his world completely distracted.

She is no beautiful little fool.

Living in a woman's body can be quite unfair,
one reason that quite out stands the rest being
that from the second our letters read "X and X"
we are programmed to become attracted to a ***
which from the beginning of human interaction
has disrespected and shamed us with such a hatred
that could never be sufficiently described.
But they need us and want us just the same!
Oh please,
help me to understand.
Are we not sacred creatures!
I wonder who told the boys otherwise
I do wonder who started the lie.

-kk

this world tells us to go to the bedroom
but i want to follow you to the park
i cannot see your face ahead of me
but your eyes are my two round worlds
and i know they are sparkling
you reach back for my hand
and pull me into you
sharing warmth between clothes
and as the sun kisses us goodbye
our lips take its place

i think you wanted the same things as me

I lie awake at 3:00 AM.
During the day,
I had to force myself to keep moving
so that I wouldn't fall asleep
but now the night has brought my mind to life
and I am struck with thoughts
behind my eyelids
that emulate the black shadows
caressing my closet

today i became aware
of the reason why
i have to try with much effort
not to glance his way constantly.
Oh how i love his mouth and the way it moves,
not just his lips,
but the utterly adorable way
that the corners of his mouth
slide ever so slightly upward
while he sings into my soul

-kk

there's something sad about the sky
watching it fall down in colors
and paint itself to sleep
I sit and wait
for something I haven't figured out yet
listening to music that matches the hue
of the now darkened sky

I think that my disease is being okay
and living for momentary gratification
this week
nothing felt complete
you, me and everything that happened
standing in places because I should
looking at chilled and chiseled landscapes
that should transfix
but my eyes felt too hollow
not even being drunk felt like enough
I expect too much
and I feel so small

she is a delicate rose
at the dawn of winter,
petals slowly withering
around the edges

-kk

the stars are out and
everyone is in love
but i am alone

-kk

my chest aches
but i know my struggle
is not unique or important
it is one of self pity
for too long i have made myself sick
why do i never learn
the more i live the more i trip over my feet

my thoughts are heavy, booming like thunder
but when i speak my words fall out like cake crumbs
airy, pointless, forgetful
do they see me as dumb and powerless like i feel?

everything i do is an effort to distract
from what i cannot say out loud
i live in a honey world
surrounded by sappy sweetness
but i cannot breathe or move through it
to connect with those around me

most people when asked
what they are most drawn to in a person
respond wholeheartedly, "eyes"
and true
eyes are crystals glinting with beauty and emotion
and are often referred to as "windows into the soul"
but i am curiously drawn to the allure of a mouth
i love lips and dimples and teeth
moving together to form a dazzling smirk.
i often find my gaze lingering on your mouth
your smile stuns me
and i cannot help but to be mesmerized
by its irresistible appeal
luring and tempting me
to give you my full attention.

-kk

(I) have a strong desire and longing for something
I feel empty and hollow
I (do) a thorough examination of my physical state
but I am (not) hungry or thirsty and I slept well the night before
still, I am craving something vital to my survival
I can (feel) a gnawing in my gut
Suddenly, as I close my eyes in a momentary whim
I see a (wo)nderful face shining
peering into me with bright eyes and skin
whispering my name with guita(r) strummed syllables
and I know what it is  I am craving:
I want someone who will call me at 11:00 PM
and talk with me for hours
our voices passing (th)rough a sacred space
untouched and unseen
by an(y)one except us
I want those eyes...

have you ever felt so upset?
but you don't know why?
have you ever felt a twisting in your gut?
quiet for a time
then someone tries to speak to you
and you burst into sudden flames
that make you realize
you were keeping in so much pain?
reasons unknown
ammunition just kept on loading
until there was no more room in the barrel
sometimes i worry
that i'm a ticking time bomb
but the tick is so soft
that sometimes it soothes me to sleep
i fear i have too much anger coiled
too many feelings strung between my bones
i worry for the safety of others
i think that is why i feel so alone.

-kk

my feet are tired
but they will never feel as heavy
as the ones that took these stairs to bed
every night
having labored
until the smothering sun had seeped into their very beings
the floorboards have grown wise
among the unceasing symphony of footsteps
each layer of rust and grime
conceals an unspoken history
but this hotel was one of few
that took note and listened
with every step I do my best
to glide into the past
echoes of daily conversation
questions and longing
"Did you hear about..."
"The most hilarious thing happened to me today..."
"I miss the way she..."
I see the walls transforming around me
the paper lanterns hanging
dazzling gold detail restored
brilliant red puffed with warm radiance
I see the light spreading across the ceiling
like hundreds of arms held out
to comfort the souls making a home
in this foreign unaccepting land
the wafting smell of familiar cooking
brings about throngs of memory
i will never really know the feeling
but as I look out the window
through the lazy haze of apricot sunlight
I can taste the uncertainty and fear
but it is overwhelmed by dreams

(I) do not stay up late
because I (am) not tired.
I like sleeping,
but I cannot stop (thinking)
(about) how little time there is left
and I know (you) are almost
out of my reach.

-kk

i get obsessed with things
until they make me sick
i love too hard
worry too well

i do this with everything
music, people, ideas, school

you need to
calm down
let go
honey

don't take hold of things
and let them in
with such a serious grip

you're ok
nothing is ever as bad as it seems
just let the anxiety fade
forget the sour aftertaste
and realize there's good
in everything

(you can love and want things to pieces
without falling to them yourself)

you make me want
to smash my head
through the mirror

writing poetry can be frightening
i'm vulnerable
unguarded
wide open
exposed
my bare skin is hanging on the clothes line
sometimes
letting another read my poems
is like letting my glass jar drop
and hit the floor
my reflection glinting
in every scattered shard

-kk

i am a collection of what people want me to be
of what i assume people want me to be
of what i hope people want me to be
acquired meticulously over time
and pressed out in my words and on my skin
like spread sheet data.

Fingers
tap
tap
tap
against the smooth desk
tracing the swirly curvatures in the wood
mind desperate for an escape
time is but a small door
patience is the key
body swaying to non existent melodies
hoping for a distraction from the inevitable.

-kk