everyone is drunk and laughing
obnoxious in the best of ways
the last time we will all be together
"this is freshman year" buzzes in my ears
on a whim i fumbled for his hand
he looked at me with crystal blues
they were surprised but hopeful
i pulled him away from the multitude of conversations
the sun sprinkling fairy dust through the trees
summer is on the horizon, i know nothing can really happen
but i just want to be here with him for this moment
we tucked ourselves behind some trees
on a soft bed of grass
secluded
we could've been alone in a forest
sat there in calm silence
until he whispered timidly
"i wish i could've gotten to know you better"
i replied softly "i know, me too"

your eyes are so stunning
there are times when they widen
and for a moment they become the center of my world
i don't know how to avoid their pull
how can i look away
when you've given me a glimpse of your soul
i'm drowning in the blue
but i'll never call out for anyone else

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

its better
if i'm not completely
outwardly content
because
when my room is clean
my grades are good
i've finished applying to colleges
and i'm getting along
with everyone
then there is nothing left
that upsets me enough
but doesn't scare me badly

so

my mind gets left with too much time
on his meddling hands
and he starts creeping
around the backyard
and digging
up past tortures
to taunt me with

the June air feels so good against my skin
I'm smoking and I shouldn't
that feels good too
I'm thinking about him and I shouldn't
that feels melancholy
like a Sunday night
pathetic
like a long drag on my cigarette
hidden in the shadowed light
I want but it's wrong
like picking the scab on my leg
it feels visceral and rewarding
until it hurts
dried blood on my sheets
I know he's sleeping in his
soundly
no thoughts
but I'm there
like a shadow
following his movement
go home and sleep, silly girl
yes, but kissing him feels like catching up

Lately
I can't fall asleep
because I can hear each heartbeat
pounding in my head
I want to touch
I want to be touched
I just want someone
to trace, place, hold
finger to lip, hand to face
playing with hair
caressing shoulders and neck
breathing in scent
charting each surface
finding a way to come close to another
as deeply and physically possible
using every sense the body has to offer
each one a method of communication
simpler than words

I’m hit with sounds and smells of you
Sitting behind a smoker on the transit
And I’m strangely nostalgic
I’ve grown to love it
Because on you it’s mixed with pine
Like you dozed off next to a fire pit

I realize you’re all around me
Because in these parts
short flannel clad men
with tall egos
are a dime a dozen

Though I know when I move away
I’ll look back with yearning
On those nights in your car
(they meant more to me than you know)
listening to Tame Impala and waiting for the bridge
bass cranked high like the heat
effervescent windows frosted
from our craft brewed breaths
singing and saturated with spirit(s)

Was this home or all I came to know?

I can’t deny that summer will never again
be as heavy with happiness
as when the sky has stopped her crying
long enough to paint in pastels
canopied air crisp enough to bite
I guess that’s what happens
when you spend 2/3 of the year in grey

it’s not for me

i am not a person of many things
i have only a small family
one brother
i spend my days
using the same few things
over and over
i haven't many followers on social media
or in real life
my grades are fine
though i have not as many points as you

but i have sung thousands of lines, verses
i have birthed hundreds of poems and stories
some not written down
but they have still existed in my mind
and in that space between
spoken and unspoken
the pen
drips gold into my soul
whether real or metaphorical


i am wealthy in my ways

you are cute no matter what you are
(even angry)
I like it when I can see your emotions
in the open air
and feel the energy
waves of you

here in this perfect paradise of endless and colorless
I fertilize the white soil with my devastation and solitude
and plant a garden
tall stalked flowers and bushes of ripe berries
pop up between the parallel lines

With an aching in my heart
I miss Paris
I fell in love with the freedom
of a new city without boundaries
and the almost overwhelming beauty
flavors that melted my previous palette
sights so drenched in detail
looking down a single street
was the same as taking in an entire novel
new sounds that excited my nerves
and gave me a never ending buzz
I am forever attached to the feelings I felt
but sadly the city of love cannot love me back
I am simply an alien who wandered
onto her luscious soils with my foreign feet
and she only had a moment's chance
to recognize my presence
which most likely went unnoticed
but still I'll love her forever
and maybe someday I'll stay long enough
for her to throw her arms around me

-kk

i cried until my pillow
was saturated with salt
though no amount of tears,
could fill the emptiness
in my chest.

-kk

in the midst of my solitude
i see the moon
his face plump and hopeful
But look closer and notice
how his eyes point downward
and his mouth quivers
he is beautiful but melancholy

in the midst of my solitude
i see the moon
full of woe like me
he knows his fate
that with every orbit
from this world in his sight
he is drifting away

in the midst of my solitude
i see the moon
his eyes say what i feel
sharing in my pain
he still glows every night
i am not alone

Goodbye my moon
have a safe slow trip
i know it is out of your control
i will always remember you
though my body may be gone

everything cannot stay.

i try to cry but the tears don't run
i try to feel but the sensations don't come
i am numb.
(but i know the pain is there)
-kk

as i look out my window
at the glossy mirrored skyscrapers
painted with splendid light
i realize
that i haven't thought about
that old house or town all day.
people from there have passed through my thoughts
but i haven't pictured myself back there at all.
and now as i am looking back up at the towers
i feel like they are standing there for me:
protective and beautiful.
now,
when i think about where i used to live
i don't yet feel passive,
but i no longer feel desire.

At the dinner party, she is there
and he has to take extra care
to focus his eyes on his fiancee
he has to use all the strength he can conger up
just to keep those eyes
on the fabric of her dress,
distract himself with the the details
the stitching on her sweater
Because his entire being is begging his eyes
to shift a little to the right
and look onto the woman with the huge smile
and chandelier eyes
he wants to watch the movement
of her beautiful milk chocolate hair
and listen to her laugh
oh how he loves her laugh
the way her eyes scrunch up
and her cheeks blush
the sound is so satisfying there are no words
when he hears her laugh at his bad jokes
she makes him feel like he is worth something
she listens to him when no one else will
she is his little angel
but no one can ever know
**** it, his eyes are transfixed on her again...

i would never admit this out loud
but he kind of makes me sad
the way i might feel bad for an ugly animal
how lowly a life you must've had
to wear that dreadful hat
"Make America Great Again"
short, silly little man!
why are you the way that you are
your face seems soft like a baby
but you ****** with my best friend's heart!
and she may forgive you
but i definitely won't

we walk through days
telling ourselves
that no one will accept us
and the raindrops roll down the pane
and the breath fogs up the place
where a hand lay
when the mind was transfixed
on headstones and graves

we walk through days
telling ourselves
that no one will accept us
and the eyes are dry caves
and a sailor's knot sits in the stomach
with no one to untie it
but just like milk
emotions have an expiration date

we walk through days
telling ourselves
that no one will accept us
and people are driving cars
and picking the last donut from the box
while someone is in a bathroom stall
hand and heart gripping tight
on something sharp

while i'm sitting here in the dark
with my feet propped up
and my body warm
i should be content
but i can't get this sensation to go away
it doesn't seem to have a name
that i can recall
my storage of words is limited
to 11th grade vocabulary
and what i've read in books
if i were to try and explain
i guess i would say that it feels like
there is a vertebra missing from my spine
i can still stand and walk around,
but when i do the world seems to tilt slightly
all of the bookshelves in my mind
have slid to the opposite wall
the cabinets have burst open
and things are falling out
clattering on the hardwood floor
i know i should have a smile on my face
but all i can think is:
why
why not
how

for myself it seems as though
as the days increase in number
my love for them decreases so

-kk

tonight i saw the movie paper towns
excellent message but poorly executed
but from it i reaped two important insights:
1. that my life has been paper for a long time
2. something much worse than being paper
is treating others like paper: disposable, recyclable

light trickles in from the window next door
same lot, new house, new family sleeping
its funny how things have changed around me
while i remain
i wonder if we will grow apart some day

i pass by the same faces, places
blank stares
no one cares all that much today
or yesterday
do i care? i don't know
i wonder if we will grow apart some day

i like to think there is a golden future ahead of me
when all this wandering ends
maybe loves and losses alike
and that I might forget
all the things that make me shudder in my sleep
i hope someone is sleeping next to me
i hope i am far away
i wonder if we will grow apart someday

today (i) awoke in love with the world
and i finally realized the truth
that i (am) a wonderful person
i am in control of (my) happiness
i am worth more than words can say
i am not my body but it is (beautiful)
i am not my mistakes and imperfections
i am more than allowed to love my(self)
i am not always right about how they see me
i am as strong as (i) let myself be
i (am) intelligent
i am creative
i am (a)n original
i am loved and lovable
i am not alone
i am the poet of my life (poem)
and i can write it the way i want it to be.

-kk

i've never been
the kind of person
that others feel the need to impress
and go after
i'm not unwanted but i feel slightly less desirable
than the rest
it seems that being attainable is unattractive
i guess they assume i'll always be there
or that im not beneficial to their cause enough
i wonder what it is about me
that makes people less inclined
to text me first
or come running to me with gossip
i would consider myself an average listener
maybe even a pretty good one
i wonder what i'm missing
still, i don't think i'll ever stop seeking and listening
myself
is that my downfall? maybe so

Last night I dreamt of him kissing my eyelids and eyes
catching my tears with his kisses before they could fall.
Why would he do such a gentle thing?
My wondering echoed the depths of my sleep
and through the night he whispered back to me
I want to taste every part of you
even the tears that you cry.
My only wish is to take away your fears and shames
and swallow them myself.

I awoke asking the cold morning
if such a selfless thing could exist beyond dreams?

sometimes
words fail me
sometimes
i can't even begin to explain
sometimes
i don't have any fancy words
from the uncharted pages of the dictionary
sometimes
i don't feel like looking in a thesaurus for the perfect
word to fill in the blank
sometimes
it doesn't come easily to me
usually
it doesn't come easily to me

-kk

i know i'm not supposed to want you
but i do
if only i had been there sooner
maybe you
would want me too
because most high school love
is circumstantial
and i don't think
she's any better

-kk

The boy asked, "How do you write a poem?"
and the teacher was perplexed 
How can I explain? I don't know!
She tried to respond in an eloquent fashion
"Pretend that your pen is a cup and pour into it your soul
but only let it out in tiny, undiluted drops.
The boy did not understand so he questioned her once more
She thought
"Make believe that the page is a baby's rosey cheek
and kiss it softly with only the most delicately chosen words."
Confusion continued to cloud the young boy
So she decided to give it one final try:
"You are a summer garden plot, a poem a flower bud
find an open space to plant a seed of thought
bury it in the soil naked and undeveloped
and give it your utmost care and contemplation
along with water and sunlight in preferential doses.
After a time a poem may begin to sprout
but it can often take longer than you expect
do not assume the poem to pop right up
and there are no guarantees
about what will result in the end
that seed may grow into an exotic rose
or an unforeseen dandelion
you never know how the sun will shift
or the how the wind will shape the land."

The boy thanked the teacher thinking he understood
and hurriedly outside he ran
straight to the wooden gardening shed
and grabbed his shovel, gloves and watering can.

The depths of my mind seem so distant
from the thoughts that sit on the surface
as real and solid as concrete
until I chisel them out,
and divide them in conversation.
I want to invite someone
into the crypt
but for now music is my
confidential lover
the only one with the key
it knows exactly what to say
I wish I could speak back
so I sing.
But sometimes that is not enough
I want to share the music with someone else
I need someone who will listen with me
please.
Oh, how I hope that you understand my lyrics.

-kk

i feel like i'm going in/sane?
i'm such a hypocrite
calling myself a feminist
but i shame my body every time i look in the mirror
and i let the boys hold the sculptor's tools
and i try to make them like me more by wearing makeup and pushing up my *******
and i talk behind other girls' backs
and sometimes i still have to bite my tongue when they talk about sleeping around
and i looked her up and down before she spoke a word
and the difference between a good and bad day can be all about my face
and i don't even use the privileges i have to help the oppressed be heard
but i want this all to stop
and that is why i am a feminist
because i get moments of clarity and awe
they are getting closer together and longer
i see the way us girls are never given a chance
it is a lot to ask of us to know any better
and it horrifies me that
the definition of torture can match up
with some of the manners in which we are brought up

look past all of the cliches
shake off your automatic response to go "ugh"
and realize the implications of being told you're an object
in society's state of mind
over half of the population shouldn't have a voice
and that doesn't even take into account the intersections
enough layers to drown in oppression
and compared to most i'm on top of the bottom

Why must all of my
outstanding inspirations
come at 2AM?

-kk

i test my surroundings
casually sliding my hands across things i might like
i feel sick when i don't know
what i want

i like listening to other people
with my eyes
trying to figure out
what makes their pupils widen
and if they know what its like
to be stuck
in a vortex of thought

things like
not going outside
and always being alone
should be crimes
and i'm a terrible offender

it messes with your mind
you end up thinking too much
because there's nothing new
to interest your endless flood
of creative juice
i'm a noiseless blender

getting stuck in your head
is a terrible place
to be
the mind is a very large
but cluttered space
full of yesterday echos
and quiet heartaches
waiting to pounce

i'm really good at
creating my own personal hell
i need to learn
to close my mental door
in the faces
of my fears

run your hand across my back
it feels rough I know
I've lived longer in my mind
than can be measured in years
still my body takes a toll

I try to smile when I see you at the end of the hall
but moving those neglected muscles
makes me shiver round my bones

take me down to that river near the cemetery
throw pebbles at my heart
and laugh with those sadistic eyes
how beautiful they are
I could never forget...

when I inevitably give in
reach back for your hand
and wrap your fingers in mine
you must know
I'm accepting flowers from the devil
baby

the devil never lets go of his hold

my feet are reluctant
and bare
the snow curdles under my toes
i cannot feel them anymore
i don't know why i am walking
in this direction
towards the cemetery
where your body lies
but resisting is hopeless

sometimes i wish you were ashes
because all i can do is imagine
what is happening underground
alone
your vanilla skin purpling and grey
your plum lips picked too soon
now shriveled lines
ice covering your eyes
that used to reflect your thoughts
and that
there is no one to cradle you through the winter

other things i will not say out loud

but no matter what we try to believe
you are not on this earth anymore
so why bother pretending
it only fills me with grief

Dear beautiful one,
Please stop hurting me. Because I am you.

Love,
young girl

everyone can be beautiful
and is
because beauty is simply
striking, passionate, energy
energy can neither be created
nor destroyed
that is what they taught me
in middle school science class
bodies are constant conductors of energy
it is what we are made of
and i can see it radiating from your presence
when you do the things you love,
when you open your mind with bright awareness
and listen to the world with your soul
that is beauty
so don't you ever stop

-kk

There are endless things that I do not know
There are endless things that may or may not be
with the little power I have
all I can do is relish myself in the things of beauty
that are unmistakably real and give me joy
they are undying proof that goodness exists
and is meant to be
even when I am confronted with days
when the gloomy haze prevents me from seeing the sky.

when i close my eyes
i go to places i've been to
maybe not
i decorate memories
in short breaths
i see neighborhoods
i see miles of desert
driving through dilated sunsets
i see the light hanging
kissing me through the window
warm sun caresses my body
while i'm laying in silken sheets
and then familiar sounds of summer
the intense feeling of being home
when i was young and nothing mattered
my thoughts and talks from those days are gone
but i'm left with the sensation
everything could've been a dream
im drifting now
i'm a child at the airport
the excitement of whats to come
fills my lungs
i need that now
i need to be young
i am young
let me fly

now,
the only thing that clears my mind
is the little park across the street
with it's soft dirt paths and circular moon lamps
it is here
in the smooth warm air
that i can forget it all, yet still think.

my body is like an orange
outside I am bright, spontaneous
but peel back my skin
oh, feel it old and withered for its young age
even though I was only just picked off the tree
and you will find the strings of pale yellow
slowly breaking apart
confused, a nostalgic color
inside I feel boring and I am sad
it only takes a peeled layer
a whiff of muggy air
and I am drifting out of my sight
in tears
leave me here to rot

i hear the burst of song
euphoria i cannot say
music is in my soul
can't you see it gushing out
of my every exhale
the beauty melts oblivion
fear of the endless and unknown
i know bliss is this
i am not alone
i am good
my heart beat is a rhythm
i survive on music
what more can i convey

-kk

i was borne of one heart
two sides, but cor unum
i was blessed with a sweet pairing before me
a gentle winds at my birth whispering
go forth and take us with you
my breaths are an ode
and my fears reflect an earthly greatness
a mountain range behind and before me
do not forget the love that made you..
so vast
while i, an open crater
must drink to fill parched canyons
that echo my name


i cannot wait for rain

the moments kiss you so quickly
you regret your promiscuity
while also questioning it's existence

Time alone cannot heal all wounds
time is merely a fabrication of the human mind
that we use to organize and decipher our lives.
It is the realizations that we make and the experiences we have
along with the comforting idea of time's guiding hand
that allows the blood to clot and the skin to renew itself.

There is not a single guarantee about what lies ahead.
The dependence on time allows for these assumptions to be made.
Simply take down the clock from your mental wall and you may be infinite.

it's odd how we decide that we need another
person
to fuse together
by the lips
by the body
there is no other purpose
than to feel excitement
We know nothing, minds and bodies completely foreign
except to the idea of shared beauty
to the possibility of fitting together
like the threads of the duvet I am lying under
maybe someday you will sleep next to me
but for now I will think of you across the street

Today I was thinking about God
and how it must feel
to hold the universe in your hands.
I wonder if the earth to him
is like a small piece of clay
taken between his index finger and thumb
and rolled into a tiny ball
handled with such a delicate touch
as to give each surface
the same amount of pressure
sculpting mountains, shaping oceans
creating infinities
with momentary movements.

Do his fingers slip on occasion?
unbalancing the careful equilibrium?
I've been told that God makes no mistakes
but nothing seems to make sense to us
down below
trying to make a home
on this ever-spinning pottery

I wonder, is his other hand preoccupied as well?
maybe the earth we live on is just one of many art projects
or is our little ball the only one he has invested in?

sometimes I wonder if he knows how it feels to be lost
blindly stumbling through the blizzard
snow flying at our faces and getting caught in our noses and eyes
feeling around for something to hold onto in darkness
trying to be good and do well in a place that is confusing, unscripted
everything we know taught by sheep who call themselves shepherds
when in truth
they are just as lost as the rest of the flock.

-kk

is the anticipation always better?

i have reached the point of sadness
it has become part of me
and it is so deeply woven
and i am so drenched
it has seeped into crevices of me no one has ever seen
i have reached the point of sadness
i have been silent long enough
alone in my body
that it is feeble to turn it into words
and feed them to someone else
it has transcended words
it is me and always has been
i have always been a fearful sadness
at this moment i have run out of covers
that is why i am alone
underground
in my car
writing this poem with red eyes
but no tears

i'm sitting on a bed without sheets
in a half-tidy room
that i didn't finish cleaning
i'm wearing the strangest outfit
a combination of the last clean garments
from my floor
which seems to be playing a game of hide and seek
behind boxes, and clothes, and things i will probably never need
i'm not quite sure if i'm hungry or just tired
but something feels wrong
maybe its a leftover feeling from just having opened my report card
that i fished out of the piles of mail
because i knew i'd have to face it sooner or later
and right now i wish i had chosen later
or maybe its because i've never even kissed a boy
or that everything always feels messy
and unfinished
like this poe


-kk