i cannot be defined by words, but by my actions,
by the way i have two signs of destruction, the
act of self-destruction or by shutting down on
myself. in hopes of keeping these spontaneous
combustions less erratic and vehement, lately,
i've been donating my skin, replacing it with
metal. maybe becoming a cyborg, makes me
a different person, but it just makes me feel
like a doomsday clock. my blood has been
replaced with gun powder, my skin coated
into titanium pallets, my words creates the
ignition, set to go off. i've become an active
volcano that hasn't made any progress in
being active, and as much as i yearn to
explode to you with these thoughts inside
my head trickling in my thoughts like gasoline,
my words become the lit cigarette to start a
fire, my memory has fallen in love with the
idea of you and the fact you could destroy
my world just by ignoring me. but you don't.
your heart stays active while mine is on standby.

- kra