you are so delicate, like feather pillows and angel wings
yet you offered me the knife to cut you off from me, and
autumn happens in each season where leaves fall like
pinned up pictures on your wall tumbles to the dusty
corners of the bed or hides in the closets like skeletons
and happiness is hard to find, but it's so much easier
finding new ways to miss you when remainders of
reminders are hidden in the nooks and crannies of
my endless jumble of miswired thoughts, and the
inside of your soul is just a house of mirrors for every
personality you perfect on your face with such ease
i wish the mirrors would shatter, and i would throw
the knives at all of them already and see the truth

- kra

sunken eyes and an untame mind.
eyes grow pale with the sun,
the universe turns black all at once.
free fall into oblivion, lick the edge
and feel the pain. i can't stop the rain from
sinking down my face. this love is all
i had, now i just spin around in place,
wishing to be alone. it's just a phase, so
i say, but everything is dull. the wind
pulls through my throat speaking
words i've never known. my eyes won't
close, the brain says no. can't stop thinking.
the sun is devouring my irises, blinded
by the deafening silences. what's happening?
where's my mind? i can't keep passing by
with i'm fine.

transient the day like her eyes
ebb and flow to paths of least resitance
her soft hand full of hopes releases them
shatter on the hard slate
but if one had flown
if only one had flown
but night overtakes her on hands and knees
gathering with gentle tear each fragment
and placing it in the coldness of its tomb
like children of ideals wrought too soon
they prematurely meet such dire ends
but she is not one to surrender to odds
and her strong tounge is razors to the whetted ear
the barbs of its treaty with its gentle nature
like spikes driven by brutal hammer in pouring rain
no rest from the cold labour
no break from the fast
if only one had flown
if only one had opened delicate wing
to warm sun
and with imperceptible beating wing carried itself
upwards out of these shadowed times in shadowed lands
if only one had flown
i would not cry to you such lament
but it is done
the best of our age
the bright jewels of our generation
spent like crushed hopes
on the cold slate
if only one had flown
if only one had flown

They say that love
is a strong word
so believe me
when it's said, it's heard
I know I'm not
the prince charming
you've been waiting for
but I don't want to be harming
you're feelings when
I tell you
that the only person that doesn't
love you, is yourself.

the nature of this night
spreads its thin harvest upon my table
a gruel and water porridge feast
with the fanfares of her jaundiced hand
many more lined up with eager grin
for the warmth of paupers kinship
thin blanket wrapped round our shoulders
snow gathers at feet
she captures the moment on paper
the image of all of us gathered like when we were young

the grandiose illustration
with its brilliant colour fanfare with
jugglers and wine swilling laughing men blinded by drink
chorus line of female dancers who wear costumes of the hundred years war
lead the assault on the last bastions of the ignorance of bliss
all descrying that we can ill afford to be sleeping
while empires are built in our namesake
the so daintily shod soldiers whos feminine wiles misunderstood
have taken over the dancehall beneath us
and have taken up song
the grandiose illustration
caught by her pen on sketch pad
has leanings to the Marxist revolutions
and philosophys of the rhetorical
but in the end we join them and
drink the port sing the song

a thousand years of tales to be told
in the eyes of a single girls sweet thoughts
epic landscapes filled with noble men and storybook girls
the grandiose illustration
shows the two of us on the beach
with the sun racing down to touch the high towers of miami
and fill the laughing joys of thouse who toss and
tumble in the breaking waves
the nature of this night
in one small corner of the illustration
a simple window with the shade drawn
that says goodnight

You lived next to a mushroom field
The smell was pungent and distinct
It reaked of sewage and sulfur
I never understood how anyone could
"Just get used to it."

I hate mushrooms now
Moreso that I ever did before.
I mull over the things you did to me
And made me do to you.
All I can remember is
The smell creeping up my nasal passage
Strangling me
Choking me.

Since that day,
My life has resembled that place.
So much junk to deal with
Such a despicable scent
People wonder how I deal with it.

I don't even know how I stand the stench.
But I find it funny, oh the irony
In how I have come to simulate
The place I detest the most.

I crave
Open spaces
Endless skies
The freedom of
Emptiness

I want to climb
To the tops of mountains
Lose my breath
To the clouds
And the morning sky

I could float in the sea
On a single boat
And lose my mind
To the coldness
Of the stars

Let me explore the spaces
Of the Earth
And fill the emptiness
With my energy
I want to spread my soul
To the corners
Of the world
I want to
Escape