my mind is an infinity with depths left undusted like
an old library of memories. each book has a specific name
of singular people who has come in contact with me.
some books are coated with dust and probably will
be left that way. my handwriting has gotten sloppier
over the past few years and i don't blame anyone for it.
these hands waiver terribly like the few seconds before
a storm. somehow, i imagine your library to be a pile
of books  strewn haphazardly all over the floor. some
spines are worn out but you still turn the pages. there's
a few books that have been set on fire and burn marks like
cigarettes pressed onto sidewalks. there is always a
few books left open, but i'm sure you forgot my name
and left me sitting on the floor for a while like a gardener
who let their roses wilt because they forgot about their
passion. passion does have a breaking point.

- kra

my spine curves towards you as if you were the sun's rays
and i am a meeble flower and i wouldn't wish it any other
way. people tell me that this love has it's own dictator, that
the gaps between my ribcage isn't supposed to be filled with
fire. it's like giving a child whiskey for the soul. this is a risk
i am willing to take onto myself. i heard that broken bones
grow back stronger, so the bones in my arms are in the
process of mending their broken state so for a little while
longer, i can blacksmith the areas that need to be fixed.
some days, i tend to worry about placing this fire back
into my heart but something tells me that this long journey
of let downs and over thinking almost constantly is like
summer vacation: it is finally over. as fall enters, everything
will fall back into place.

- kra

each time you revisit,
it's less common
and more erratic.

you are a bullet, pushing through everything & everyone
in your path only to achieve your happiness. somehow,
i always find myself behind the barrel of the gun. i cannot
conceal the self-inflicted bullet wounds like empty holes
with snakes sneaking out of the orifices. trying to suppress
the infection with outside sources is like treating a wound
with salt: it only gets worse each day. the recoil of the gun
is only becoming more common. thankfully, the sharp
pain has turned into a short resounding moan that wishes
itself to sleep and wistfully shoving the vague memories
back down into the ninety percent of my mind i do not use.
this is no fairytale ending. this is obliteration; this is a fallout.
this is the reality of a rapture, this is the third world war the
bible never warned us about, this is speaking in complete
silence. this is worse than complete loathing. this is what you
are not warned about. i understand now that i am the victim
of the many crimes you’ve committed and i still want everything
and more to do with my culprit. this is a colossal curse.

- kra

absence is only temporary, they told me. there is a
difference between a full glass and an empty glass,
but what does it mean if i spilled out all my happiness
and it washed upon absence’s shore? does it still count
as something to rely on, that being let down is given.
love is not a renewable resource in certain situations,
i understand, it is as valuable as helium but we use it
without a second thought. buried deep underground,
somewhere remote, is where you left your thoughts
of me. my thoughts of you are kept in an urn around
my neck, where everyone can see them. i have
considered throwing you to the ocean, where the
ocean will swallow you and i will be rid of you, but
i won’t want to visit the ocean anymore or touch the
shores. you will corrupt the ocean like you done me.

no anchor,
no lifesaver,
just aching arms,
and cramping legs,
swimming towards the
sharks with their fins raised
high like fists, tormenting me
i found my suppression at it's weakest point.
my heart is a vast ocean with absence of any underwater
species and you are the waves with high and low      tides, coming
and going as you please. the wanderlust controlled her. it was a major
issue she never fixed. she drifted in and out                      of            our
lives like a static phone call. it was like bleeding out
in a tank full of sharks, accepting the fact that
it was already too late. there
was no goodbye party,
it was only an empty
room filled with
this colossal
guilt

- kra

my mind is like firecrackers
explodes with thoughts
of you.

- kra