and still,
you
pronounced
yourself
predator
and myself
the prey.

between the discovery of us and this moment,
a grotto was slowly building itself inside of your
ribcage. you told me you liked how i tickled the
inside of your stomach, and eventually you woke
up complaining about how my sharp fingernails
were scraping against your rough dry skin like
a chalkboard. from time to time, i feel her ghost
move in me like an unborn child thrashing in the
womb. her name alone impales this body like a
sharp kitchen knife into my stomach. that's why
i tremble at the mere thought of her voice: it is
like a fish hook with bait on the end. if i am god,
i am a forgiving god, but my hands tremble too
much even when i fervently show compassion.
my hands are not very careful with delicate things.

- kra

this body purged itself into a mausoleum
where only the dead lie. watering the dead
roses only seems to work when you are
holding the umbrella to keep the acid rain
from beating down on me with closed fists.
and yet i still count down to a date that
does not exist when i'm going to see your
face again. my fears taught me how to
hold back from biting & launching myself
into your arms. those arms are not my
safe haven (yet). i have yet to trust those
hands who let me slip through the cracks
of her fingers like syrup or motor oil.

- kra

comparing
contrasting
there's more
oppositions
and i'm sick
of it.

- kra

watching myself being lit like chinese firecrackers
into the sky for you isn't something worth fixing
these third degree burns. you watched without
mercy the hairs on my arms crawl away from
the flames and my skin fall apart. if it was a test
of your trust in me, then i watched myself crumble
and rebuild myself into a dust sculpture of someone
you would have desired. YOU BECAME AN OCEAN
WITH HIGH AND LOW TIDES AT RANDOM INTERVALS
AND I'VE CAUGHT MYSELF CHOKING ON YOU
ENOUGH TIMES TO COMPLETELY STOP STEPPING
FOOT INTO YOUR TERRITORY. I GOT SWEPT INTO
DAVY JONES LOCKER, LOCKED INSIDE, AND PRIED
MYSELF OUT MORE THAN ENOUGH TIMES TO
FASHION WEAPONS AND BE PREPARED FOR WHEN
YOU FINALLY ENGULF ME. I WAS PANICKY THE FIRST
AND SECOND AND THIRD AND FORTH TIME, BUT
NEVER AGAIN WILL I PANIC BEING HELD HOSTAGE
BY YOU BECAUSE I WILL BE READY. YOU TRIED TO
FOOL ME WITH THE MAZES IN DAVY'S LOCKER BUT
I MANAGED A WAY OUT. YOU KNOW, I AM NOT A
CHARITY CASE, SOMEONE YOU GO TO ONLY BECAUSE
YOU ARE TRYING TO BE A GOOD PERSON AND
APOLOGIZE FOR BEING IGNORANT OF ME ONLY
BECAUSE YOU LITTER ME LIKE TRASH ON THE DIRT
COATED GROUND YOU WALK ON. IT DOES NOT WORK
THAT WAY UNLESS YOU KNEW HOW DRIFTING ALONE
FEELS. i still drift alone, trying to forget you, trying to stop
dreaming about each moment your tides swept their way
onto my shore and shriveled up when i grazed against you.

- kra

you see, i've developed the front of a sheep and mind of a wolf
and concaved into myself like an irregular polygon because of the
people who roughly handled me like a last resort, never to fit in
and always to be confronted with my imperfections. these hands
are midas's opposites, converting beauty into the beast, scavenging
the bone marrow of others to keep me alive. the wall i've built up
makes the wall of china look like a scaled down model, because
the difference between jail and my ribcage is absolutely nothing.
they come hand in hand like best friends and i wish to drown the
sorrows building up in my chest with a tsunami with metaphors
that speaks of safehouses where people exist, not annihilation.

- kra