whenever somebody reminds me of you, i consider how our roles
were like margo and quentin from paper towns. you loved mystery
novels so much, i'm sure you became one yourself. at one point, i
wholeheartedly believed you were this unattainable celestial being
completely confined in your paper skin. then i realized something,
do you remember that day you called me your best friend as a joke
and the same day, you talked so much **** about me? it made me
realize you were right. you are a part of the ****** people living in
their **** houses burning **** to stay warm, since you like to talk
****. what was i expecting? of course, you're a high schooler. to
think that before my 21st birthday, i was quentin in the way i
admired you from afar, idealizing you as a god and dismissing
everybody else as animals. i preferred to let our paths cross in
my dreams. there were many times our strings crossed, separated,
and then came back together. although i don't have the drive to
chase you across border lines, i would skateboard miles after miles
of desert terrain just to have that opportunity to see you. realizing
it now, being friends with you was a ******* trap. to portray myself
as someone you would prefer to be friends with was difficult, since
you didn't really seem to like anybody all that much anyway. our roles
were strictly platonic, but the days stretched out seemed almost phantasmagoric. our strings that were knotted together so tightly broke
through and through, and none of us would have expected that i'd be
wanting to drive across border lines to stretch the distance out between
me and you, kind of like the way you stretched me out. as i'm slowly
undiscovering you, little by little, i'm realizing the way you think about
a person isn't the way they actually are. people are different when you
smell them and see them up close. now i'm addressing everyone that i
previously ignored because of you, and dismissing you as an animal. i
would rather live in my paper house than have to live with your ****.

- kra

and i have found momentum in getting out
of my bed in the morning, even if you're not
around. i can still put a place holder on my
heart that isn't yours and be okay with it.

maybe you were hoping i wasn't going to
find myself again, that i would have to build
my muse up from the ashes. well, that's what
i have been working on while you have been
absent. maybe coming to terms with reality
set me free from the emotions you tricked me
into honestly ******* believing and *******,
i'm going to see myself fall apart from being
alone more than i'm going to miss you now.

then again, you were the last person left who
even bothered with me here. stop coming into
my life and causing chaos wherever you go.

i'd rather go on a road less traveled than on
a road that doesn't distract me from the mere
thoughts of you. i'd rather find happiness alone.

- kra

i was born in the wrong season because spring
never grew anything of importance out of me.
meeting you, i felt something growing inside
of my chest. it was that gnawing feeling you
get when you're hungry or a complete mess
for someone who won't close the distance.
but it seems to me, we never even reached
spring. nothing ever grew from my palms,
nor did the distance between us close it's
gaps. now i am learning to grow roots that
have no correlation of the composition of your
dna. any territory where i'm prone to being
hooked, line, and sinker shall be detained. my
chest can grow it's own garden, where it is not
interdependent of the soil, of the sun, of the
water, and my god, growing in this shade is
taking it's sweet ******* time, isn't it?

- kra

because this strategy of lighting myself on fire
to get your attention resulted in varying amounts
of burns all over my body. i theorized that maybe,
if you stared at the sun, then you would go blind
to my deformities. witches like me wouldn't have
to be burned at the stake for your comfort. maybe
instead of me, you would jump head first into the
fire and take a few polaroids of what hell looks like
for me and pin it up on your wall next to the picture
of us. make a collage of things that are dead and use
those few polaroids, and maybe you'll understand.

- kra

"flower cannonball" they called you, since your
stems wrapped itself tightly together like hands
intertwined or vines clinging onto a fence or even
my teacup mix's claws yanking onto my lace shirt.

they used the dumpster graveyard flowers to create
you. despite the vivid color scheme, the cannonballs
were nothing short of a beautiful disaster in my head.
let an apocalypse happen, i'm already rotting away
anyway from the mixture of screwdrivers and the
cannonball drinks. let me strain myself clear of hues
of blues and black you painted me with. let me sink
with these letters tucked underneath my ribcage as
my seatbelt for the death sentence. at first, i couldn't
understand why you were called a name like that.

now i am understanding love and loss's gravitational
pull and the release of that gravity. you were a beautiful
disaster, building castles on rubble and driving ferraris
on cracked streets filled in with tar. you were nothing
short of beautiful, nothing short of death being romantic,
and death is starting to look a lot like you now.

i don't even care if i die anymore.

- kra

somewhere, i heard that there's two days in your life
where you don't get to live twenty four hours, but isn't
that a little biased? what about the days where i had to
remind myself that you weren't coming back? because
i had recited a poem during grief and loss poetry, and
it was more loss of self and grief of self. maybe my body
is still connected to this earth, but my soul is dead. my
muse, or my idea of one, turned to ashes. every picture
of her was still life art, of things living, but that picture
of us is still dead even to this day. and on that note, i hope
you're happy now, you miserable *******.

- kra

the stars were flickering, the moon was dimming out,
the sky was falling, and the earth was trembling at the
pulpit of your existence. but it was just me and me alone
feeling the earth collapse under the hypertension and the
world spun on an axis, excluding me from it's original axis
and i wonder if i gave you the rings so the earth can spin
on your schedule. regardless, i want it back. i want back
the reigns so this off course journey can finally settle into
its regular habits. if i have to live under a god complex
in order to verify that nobody will come close to breaking
my spine the way you did, then so be it. i will forge a
dystopian mark on myself and completely obliterate
any memory of you from that dystopia. when the time
comes, when i put my hands down and yours goes up
in surrender, you will realize how human i am in the
way i stretched myself out so much just to be your
optimal choice. i will sit back down on my virtual
throne, mend the craters in my chest, and leave you
without your gas tank floating through space. i am
not yours to control, to play with my puppeteer strings,
to have me bottlenecked with these desperate pleas. i
am a different person now, please understand this.

- kra

the title best friends probably
doesn't mean anything
to you. - kra

when i think of you, i think of the saw movies
and how someone had to die to save another
person's life. i guess i was the martyr and you
were the last remaining survivor, miraculously
unharmed. i wonder if you ever thought about
being a martyr, but from the looks of it, i'm sure
you were more than happy with throwing me into
the line of fire than helping me escape this place.

- kra

i used to associate screwdrivers with the tools
my father regularly brought with him on his belt
to work, and now that i have tasted a screwdriver
and the aftertaste of you lingers after every huge
swallow, i want to drink until inch by every inch
of my body can feel something remotely far from
where you are. i want to associate screwdrivers
with tools, as a woman, i may use maybe once
or twice, but never as a drink. i really hope i get
drunk today because i'm not seeing my muse.
ever again. the tectonic plates underneath my feet
have shifted and i'm not able to stand on my own
anymore. how i only wish i could say that i'm
suffering and being miserable all for you.

- kra

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

there was something strange about us because
when we met for the first time, our worlds were
similar, and by the time you left, you were the
sun and i was the moon. you were this game of
weights, where i must have been too dense for
you to keep holding up for me. but what about
my humanity? is it devoid of being considered
validated by anyone? am i pointless to you? or
a shout into a void? by the time you see this, i
hope i hear your answer before then. by the time
you see me, hopefully i'm sobered up enough to
the point where i don't have you misinterpret
something i say or do. whatever i say seems to
feel like i'm playing a game of weights, where
i am concentrating on weighing the odds in your
favor but it says more about me than about you.
is this a test of our friendship because if so, this
has been going on for longer than i imagined it
would. I DON'T EVEN THINK I'M IMPORTANT
TO YOU ANYMORE. AM I JUST A GHOST IN
THE HALLWAY, A SKELETON IN THE CLOSET,
A MONSTER UNDERNEATH THE BED TO YOU?

- kra

is there a scale that exists, like the richter scale,
that shows how you shake up my world like
a cocktail shaker, where my heart is a liquid
conforming to the shape of the container,
and you stir up a storm inside of me, lock
me up in a cage in the midst of the storm,
and let me stay in here until the wind wears
me down until i am little more than an itch
on your back, an empty ***** bottle, a burnt
out cigarette, a tear on your sleeve, or the
remnants of the candle i lit in hopes of you
seeing the flickering flames inside of my skin
signaling help from the burn out, and now i'm
hoarding piles of dust to find remnants of you
in the ashes. i'm hoarding the rubble from the
earthquake you put my heart through, hoping
to find some flickering flame in the midst of the
chaos. i'd scale this earthquake at a nine, not
exactly pinpointing my pain scale at a ten, but
close enough to destroy everything in it's path.
when i stare at you, i see an earthquake and i
see the hands building foundations. it would
be the biggest honor to have my world shaken
and stirred by your very presence.

- kra

my skin is a plaster made of a silky web cocoon,
and i wonder when i will ever blossom to you.
when will you notice that my blistered palms
are attempting to go through the inflorescent
cycle of turning into chrysanthemums? or am
i going through natural decomposition turning
back into the organic matter i was once before?
to become a butterfly, to lift these chained feet
off the ground and leave to somewhere where
nobody knows my name. i could, perhaps, start
this cycle all over again and succeed. this time,
i could desert everything i know and make a
placebo name and memories to scribble out
the things that made me run for the hills.

- kra

apologies blow into my face like the
cherry blossom trees are shedding their
sakura petals, or like being held at gun
point. honestly, i'm not sure if i should
see apologies as wedding vows or as
benign threats to my existence. the way
i see it, they didn't **** my parents and
that means i don't have to feel empathy
with fictional characters like batman.
then again, i should ask myself if i do
deserve the apology. for the type of
complex character i've developed into,
i realized how self-absorbed i've been,
seeing how i have compressed the
chests of people just like me without
reason. and for that, i apologize.

- kra

~
1. between my bones, my words, the circumference
of my shadow direct to my body, there is a weight,
the chasity belt hanging from my limbs apologetically
as to say, 'this shame lingers longer than your smell.'
2. i enjoy the way you are like blueprints, nobody
has claimed rooms in your house because you
belong to yourself. i bet it's lonely being you.
3. do you see parallel to death like i do? although we
are perpendicular, we only cross once. we don't bend
our backs to glance at each other, and being me, i feel
more like i am forty than twenty one these days.
4. get drunk if she's not there. your muse is more than
a muse. they are a personal matter that should be your
personal matter, not anybody else's. make yourself happy.
5. you smell like ******* LAVENDER LIKE A SCENT
ONE DIRECTION CAME OUT WITH AND I AM VERY
ASHAMED TO SAY IT, BUT I ENJOY THE DUMB SMELL.
6. you are split second decisions, camera flashes, a car
crash, an impulse that cannot be shaken by force. you
are more kinetic energy than potential energy.
7. turn me into trash because you create art from it.
8. you are the chaser drink after a ***** shot, and
also the ***** shot. i don't understand it either.
9. time is definitely not on my side, but the tragedy
seems to be on my side constantly. fall out boy should
name a song after my indefinite existantial crisis.
10. metaphors are annoying, like bribing you to be
friends with me for some stupid pissy reason like
seeing you smile, you know, something dumb like that.

- kra

five years ago, when we met, you reminded me
of vanilla milk. without all the artificial chocolate,
you were an unpretentious, simple, clean slate. to
let you slither down my throat was a facile task.

today, i have to worry about you in the way i have
to watch what i eat, to make sure it doesn't have
milk in it because of my lactose intolerance. i've
been without you so long, taking you back into
my system again is like trying to shove toothpaste
back into it's bottle, it's nonviable and useless.
milk has become my worst enemy, and i've grown
fond of the taste of chocolate over vanilla. and to
let you slither down my throat again proved difficult
because it was like asking someone with asthma to
run a mile without an inhaler. i've had to take special
precautions worrying about you, even though the
things that bother me now, shouldn't matter. and
this way, i've grown accustomed to drinking soy milk.
it is a substitute that gets the taste of the bile, of the words
i am desperate to say to your face, out of my mouth.

- kra

this homecoming seems to bring me sadness
because this is is just a transit point watering
a garden that's been wilted for months. yet,
this heart denies that's the case. time is not
on my side, yet this tragedy seems to always
hover in the quiet stirring between nature's
soft songs. this plague seems to follow me
like a rain cloud, hang on me like a trench
coat, threaten me like a criminal, and my
problem? i'm passive to letting it hover
over every decision i make. to pass this
over to you, this guilt weighing on me,
would mean losing all the chips i threw
into this card game. do me a favor, forget
about me. please forget what i said.

- kra

HOW STRANGE IT IS TO HAVE AN ARCHITECT
WHO DREW THE BLUEPRINTS OF MY HOUSE
WHO BUILT THE HOUSE WITH THEIR BARE
HANDS, JUST DEMOLISH ALL THAT I KNEW
WITH THE FATHER OF ALL BOMBS. ALL THAT
WAS ALIVE MERELY EVAPORATED FROM MY
VERY EYES. WAS I TOO STUBBORN TO SEE
YOUR EYES START TO WAIVER WHENEVER
YOU LOCKED EYES WITH ME? YOU COULD
BRING MERCY TO AN ENTIRE COUNTRY IF
YOU TRIED, BUT YOU LIT SOMETHING ON
FIRE IN ME, STARTING FROM THE TIPS OF
MY VERY FINGERS, FROM THE TIP OF MY
TONGUE, TO THE CRACKS IN MY FACADE
I FILL IN WITH PRETTY LITTLE LIES.
IS THIS PERSON SOMEONE I AM SUPPOSED TO
BE OKAY WITH? I MEAN, I FELT SMOKE
RISING FROM MY THROAT LIKE A
CHIMNEY AND NO SMOKE ALARM
TOLD ME IT WAS A WARNING OF A
PRICE I WOULD HAVE TO PAY. NOW
I AM GIVEN MY ARCHITECT'S HAND,
AND DESPITE HOW MUCH OF A
TRAITOR THEY PROVED TO BE IN THE
PAST, SOMETHING IN ME WANTS TO
CRY. I WANT TO GRAB THIS FAMILIAR
HAND,  BUT I DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT
TO TOUCH YOU. I WILL WAIT UNTIL
YOU UNDERSTAND.

MOVE YOUR HANDS FROM MY REACH.
THEY HAVE THE CORRUPTED EFFECT
OF THE MIDAS TOUCH. THEY ARE A
PLAGUE. STAY AWAY FROM ME.

I HAVE THE CORRUPTED EFFECT OF
THE MIDAS TOUCH. I AM YOUR MOST
ACQUAINTED SHAME. WHAT IS IN
STORE FOR THIS CLOSED DOOR, FOR
THIS DOOR IS OPEN AND I CAN'T
REACH OUT TO IT. YOU HAVE
BROUGHT A COUNTRY TO IT'S KNEES,
BEGGING FOR MERCY, AND I CAN'T
EVEN GET MY DOG TO SIT FOR ME
FOR ONE ******* SECOND.

WHY AM I NOT COMFORTABLE WITH YOUR
ABSENCE YET? AND WHY DO I STILL CARE?
WHY DO I STILL TAKE THIS EXPLOSION LIKE NOTHING?

- kra

showing the amount of bravery i do, waking up each morning and
wishing that instead of writing sonnets at night, i would be blacked
out on the couch, i find inner strength. in twenty nine days, i'm afraid
of being an alcoholic and living a life where i am half alive. are these
sonnets the things i am missing or do i just believe in their half-hearted
attempt of covering the truth? i am hating these things about you all over
again, like you were the reason behind the bloodstains in the bedroom and
the reason bleach won't remove these stains. as i saw the wall between us
start crumbling, it solidified itself all over again. i am sick of the red pepper
i attempt to fling into your eyes, blow back into my own face narrowly avoiding
you. all over again, i wish to apologize and come to terms with my small existence.

- kra

why is it that home doesn't have a official plantation
for my heart to grow? when all i want to do is expand,
i shrink to make room for the negativity and the shadows
of me are becoming more relevant than my actual self.
i sleep out in the foyer of every person's life, where
god forbid i open their doors because i'll leave them ajar
when their wounds are at their deepest. i'll be the fish
struggling to adjust and train their lungs to breathe with
no water. i'll be the person, struggling to breathe thirty
feet under water without an oxygen tank because i fell
in love with a mermaid, and ariel has already made a
deal with ursula for another. here's to my 21st birthday
coming up, where the first three shots will have your
name written on the tiny plastic cups. here's to you,
suiting up in your best attire for prince charming.
here's to the home i have, where home is not exactly
home and smiles aren't always that honest.

- kra

you are my favorite book
with the worst of cliffhangers

- kra

you were the last person to dwell underneath my skin
like a rash and you developed a habit of creating back
acne or using my spine as a knife holder, the ridges catch
onto me instead of flowers spreading their roots out and
clinging onto my back like saddles for horses. what kept
me at bay was the mood swings randomization like, "oh,
today may be my lucky day." therefore, i never let myself
consider the dissapointment as an option but the results
varied every time you snuck you way back into the crease
folds of my skin, back through the fresh scars that's been
stinging my skin for over two years now, back into the
year of regrets where the side effects were better than
the apocalyptic aftermath where the blast was better
than the silence. i wonder if you've reached that point
where you believe every cloud loses its silver lining,
and again, i wonder if you wonder about me ever.

- kra

i tend to enjoy my collection of stationary
people who seem to be content with the
concrete architecture they have put forth
effort to collaborate on with(out) me. they have
colossal dreams, set forth for greatness, and
here i am collecting dust and becoming a
money termite. i am walking backwards into
a past that nobody seems to remember. or is
it that nobody wants to? regardless, i move
forth onto your battle grounds where your
castle is a brick too high, a climb too steep,
somewhat collecting dust in the meantime.
do i really wish to remember what kept me
in a stationary position, at the locked door of
your friendship, once a welcome mat, now
i'm overwhelmed with the restraining order
set against me. when i step backwards, i wish
to believe i'm putting two feet forward, but
alas, it's not always the case. lately, i've been
doing more backward steps than forward.
i wonder if it will always be like this, even
if i decided i didn't want to be stationary.

- kra

for starters, i am not the first thing people pick
off the apple tree of the garden of eden. in gym
class, my classmates deemed it appropriate to
pick me last. nobody thought fondly of me.

the serpent deceives me with lies to this day,
my brain a portfolio of snapshots of those dark
memories, almost to make a point about how i
am a loser who deserves to be in last place.

even after experiencing the serpent, i found you,
a lotus flower blooming with purity and created
verses for me to follow along to. you know, those
dark days are always close behind, but you're a
step closer to the light. even when some days i
become spineless, you teach me how to crawl
my way through the strange garden of eden.

at ground level, sometimes i find beauty.
that is also the way how i found you.

- kra

my spine was built out of wood that was
already rotting from carrying the burden
of the world on my shoulders, already
growing mold in between cracks of the
floor boards because somewhere along
the way, i stopped taking care of myself
and focusing on you. maybe that's why
you were the needle, and i was the aired
up balloon filled with radiating hope that
somehow, this feeling applies to you too.
like a rotted out tree, i fell slowly then all
at once into this rut i knew climbing out
of would be a challenge i did not sign up
for. would you call me an invertebrate?
without a sturdy backbone, you could
see i'm already to fall at your ******* whim.

- kra

this understuffed bed in my stomach is capable of containment
because it is a forest of redwood fluttering with bats, slithering
with snakes, and crawling with panthers. it is an expansive house
that is mostly empty, always rented out, people crossing the
threshold of my comfort zone as if the door to my life is a ******* welcome mat, everyone seemingly feigning ignorance to the
existantial crisis in my stomach that is like a world war three.
people ask me why i have anxiety. well, they're the same ones
who cuts down the forest of redwoods and turns the ending
result of the paper into origami, and they watch the way my
skin begins to imprint a crease that stays. they're the same
ones who don't notice that the redwoods are my pillars,
just like how bones and atoms are building blocks. cautiously,
you knocked on the door to my comfort zone, and opened the
door when I allowed you to come in. you are a natural green
thumb, planting trees where others cut them down, mending
the creases in the paper to the best of your ability. you prevented
me from going extinct, from these localized fires becoming forest
fires, and gave life to the empty gray parts of myself.

- kra

do not cover your tracks, for as steady as your body
carries itself, as long as you hide from the inevitable
downfall, you will end up losing your way back home.

with every blanket you own, you covered everyone in
immunity forgetting me, as if i had my own to defend
myself from the sky where debris of planes fell, shrapnel
cutting through air gravitating towards me, the odd one
out. all i had was a flashlight to defend myself, but what
good does that do when you're living in a ghost in repeat?

my mind can't agree with my heart often.

i am a passing glimpse in your windows progressing nowhere
not brave enough to voice myself because the blanket rule covers
me. when you are brave enough to glance at the windows, i hope
you glance at me and remember that the opportunity of finding
your second home lies in my soul. when you remember that, i
hope you end up clashing with me and figure out if you want
to keep me there in your life or not. when i point the flashlight
at you, i hope you are able to forget the shallow blanket rule.

my chest hurts from my heart beating so roughly against my
ribcage but don't blame me for shaking at your very presence
because maybe i'm as scared of god as i'm scared of the devil.

- kra

every memory ends up like a kamikaze airshow,
where they end up hydroplaning on the air in
panic during the most vulnerable moments,
and the crash leaves demolition and a small
indention in the creases of my skin. my pain
is broadcasted to an audience of one, myself.
my name does not end up in the history books
nor does yours, but the pain still broadcasts
itself on the theater screen inside the crown
of my skull. it is like watching a kamikaze
airshow, where the planes are aimed towards
me. i wonder if it's just me in the planes or
if you have many different lives and it's normal
for you to die so many times and not feel pain.

- kra

by now, you should have recognized my architecture
and seen it's outer and inner beauty. you should have
been the prince, wielding a heavy sword ready to fight
my inner demons as you have always done for me.

by now, it should be someone like you examining and
taking care of me. i am decomposing, unraveling myself
from my roots that keep me safe, with no signal of any
kind. you may never arrive to that point, so if you do,
i hope my inner demons are strong enough. if you are
willing to battle them even after all this time, even if
you lose to them, this will mean it was worth it.

by now, you should have battled them and even
been willing to give your life to save me. i hope
you realize my inner demons is because you tend
to focus strictly on your own in private. i hope
you realize that true love's first kiss is embedded
into my memory as if you gave me a lobotomy.

by now, in reference to prince guide books,
you should have saved me, but instead, i am
carrying a burden instead of a bouquet of roses
for me to hand off to you. you left me an empty
shell of the house i once was, covered in webs,
dust, and a mess you left me to clean up after.

- kra

redemption is not found at the bottom of
the ocean, as i have found out. all i know
of is lungs filling with watered down
metaphors that compress my chest. the
way panic attacks works is similar to it.

i have not found redemption in anything
because i thought you were some type of
celestial being sent down to me. maybe i
assumed you were god, but i didn't expect
you to flood the earth and forget about me.

you let me drown out of self defense.

i found more comfort in the white walls i
surround myself with on a daily basis because
without you, i have nothing. i have found more
comfort from people thousands of miles away
in a minute than comfort you can give me in a
month. i have accepted redemption will probably
never arrive, so i have attached myself onto her.

she is the one thing i have left as a sister, and i
would be more honored to lose her than you
anyway. i'm sorry if you are not finding any
redemption yourself, but at this point, i will
find redemption in someone more stable.

you are unstable, and i never wanted this.

- kra

it's strange how our colors changed
from analogous to complementary

- kra

be aware of the fist fights in your prison
yard because you will notice that you are
fighting against me. excuse me, but there
is no excuse for dragging me along an long
winding road and abandoning me at your
expense. be aware i am only human like you.

be aware that i have memorized in detail
the wavelengths of your shallow breaths
the difficulty of closing in onto you because
you were my butterfly hiding it's wings.

be aware that some people don't see the
marks on your back that i made, but i
realize how painful it must've been when
you basically handed me a knife and told
me to cut your wings off. i regret that still.

be aware of the love we used to share, like
my heart was a shoebox and you were an
entire store's worth of shoes. figuratively
speaking, you became a worm hole for
every sinking feeling in my chest and i
let myself drop into this wonderland where
even the walls lie to me about happiness.

be aware that somewhere a groundhog is
burrowing a hole to hibernate for winter.

be aware that you are my winter season,
and i am burrowing myself into everything
else to distract me from the thought of you.

- kra

you are a acute demonstration of smoke and
mirrors, and every time i happen to miss you,
i remind myself that even the trees with the
most amount of leaves could turn out to be
a dead tree in the middle of winter, butterflies
decorating the bare arms of the tree. even if
you are dead, you still cover yourself in gold
tinfoil & refuse to admit it's anything but gold.

you are an acute demonstration of the planet
enduring mass extinctions in these cruel ways to
die, and you manage to still look healthy on the
exterior, even when we have collided in ways
where you are the drunk driver and i was the
victim. i know you don't remember that long ago.

you are an acute demonstration of reminders
that somewhere a family is falling apart, a
child is ending up an orphan, a white lie that
turns itself into a lie. you are a reminder that
bad things happen to good people, but that
even good things happen to bad people.

you are an acute demonstration that i am
flawed, i am going through major bug fixes
constantly, and never do i find the time to
fix them. clocks are ignorant of me and cut
me off exactly the way you did it.

- kra

i doubt you've managed to realize what
you have become in my perspective.

imagine yourself as a mild virus, crawling
your way through my pores disguised as
white blood cells. you circulate through a
crowd infecting people, of course, they
fail to see a disease when they see you
blossom. they see a garden where my
blood was spilled. they see train track
marks on my skin and don't ask how
they got there. you will inflame the
hearts of vulnerable people like you
promising to make them bloom, but
sweetie, do you know everything has
to die? you tied me to the train tracks,
and tell everyone it was my clumsiness
like it was my fault that left me alone
dying on the train tracks. it was your
fault you tied my hands and feet to
the bed of the tracks. if you admitted
to the crime, you would compose a
symphony of white lies confessing of
the fault lines i crossed. if i died by
your hands, it would have been like
watching the bride come at me with
the same knife she cut the cake with.

you managed to infect my being with
fervent compassion for you, yet i wish
god gave me the controls to erase that
feeling. this animal-like hunger is not
welcome inside of my bleached skin.

- kra

we imagined our bodies were continents but my
continent became an never ending earthquake,
trembling until it tears through the exoskeleton
of my body. the earthquake was panic attacks. i
learned to interact with them so i could see it coming.
i learned to appreciate the homes i destroyed, and
i helped you clean up the rubble after i obliterated you.
architect of sadness: you built an expansive house
that's always empty and chilly. you let the prettiest
flowers wilt and die. your bright colors coating your
exterior shows promise and sentiments, but even the
ones who walk through your doors notices the absence.
it's always too late to sever ties when you are given the
keys. your voice is like the dinner bell, ringing through
the west and east hallways and haunting these walls. we
were two different worlds clashed together like the big
bang, we were pangaea, a super continent exploding with
content and then continential drift split us open. somewhere
along the line, you became australia and myself the united
states, where swimming to you became an impossible
task. even at the end of it all, i asked for the keys to
enter inside the same house holding empty promises
and a foundation i knew was built from the hands of an
amateur architect. is that what love is? walking into the
scorch of hell's fire because you're willing to deal with
the permanent third degree burns and scars the fire will
leave on you? because that's how i know i love(d) you.

- kra

there is the first type of quiet we both know: the
comfortable quiet where we are enjoying the
others company, and the only noise in the room
is the faint sounds of us taking turns breathing.

then there's the second type that you experience
when you are on an elevator with a stranger who
peers over at you as the floors rise. it's the most
uncomfortable quiet that fills the air like smoke.

we are only acquaintances to the last type of quiet:
the type where you finally understood the pain that
i've been going through. you saw right through me.

"i don't want to make friends here anymore because
like you said, i need to put my priorities first. i'm
leaving and maybe i won't come back, maybe i will,
but all i care about is your happiness, even if it isn't
with me. you have two amazing people in your life,
keep them close because someday, they will be gone."

- kra

i will learn to live in this dry & arid environment
where even the most precious memories dissolve
into the dust storms. my name will not be burned
into the sides of mountain, nor will hearing my
name sting you like touching a saguaro cactus
your waist will not burn days later, having
nothing to do with the natural sun waves &
everything to do with my touch. fires will
travel up my spine and down my veins like
a nest of fire ants, yet they will fade, like the
promises between us. i could lose you so easily,
because your friendship is as fleeting as a coyote
yet you decide to make me your prey. even so,
it's an honor to have you say my name in the
very state i dreamed about seeing four years ago.

- kra

i've heard of forest fires that reached heights higher
than the tallest buildings in my hometown, which
flicker vividly and rapidly eats away at the mulch.

then i remember that i've only actually seen them
from far away. the musk of campfire scent drifted
lightly in the air reminding me of the way it used
to be between us. the closer i got to you, the more
stronger and recognizable the scent of the burning
was. at one point, i actually saw the mulch reacting
to the fire as it spread like a virus in a stadium full
of unsuspecting victims. i saw more of myself in
the logs then i ever did being the fire. they sat
there undergoing a permanent chemical reaction
because they only caused the fire to burn longer.

i've seen the mirage from your ocean from here,
and i hear the water is crystal clear and safe to
drink. the same people who say that have gotten
either food sickness, car sickness, or sea sickness,

i remember when the water was spoiled and tainted
with residue because everyone overlooked you as
a shadow. how you cleaned it all out, the residue
of the hatred, regrets, sadness you are surrounded
by, was beyond me at the time. i may never know.

did you remember the time i learned to swim in
your ocean? people tell me it's their first time, but
i learned all about the bottom of the ocean where
davy jones' locker sits first. you showed me the
darkest parts of you, and somehow believed it
yourself, yet you are perfectly safe to drink.

i choked on you, not intentionally.

"you are the first person i could really tell
my problems to. you're like a sister to me."

WHY DID YOU TELL ME THOSE THINGS
IF THEY WEREN'T GOING TO MATTER
FIVE YEARS DOWN THE ROAD?

the shadow of you is more important than
anything because you are scared that the
sun will make that you shrivel up.

"it really doesn't matter whether i exist
or not. nobody will remember me."

DID YOU KNOW I AM STILL IN RECOVERY
FROM THE LAST TIME I GAVE MYSELF THIRD
DEGREE BURNS FOR YOU TO NOTICE THAT
I REALIZED I AM AT FAULT? I DID NOT TAKE
GOOD CARE OF YOU AND NOW OTHERS ARE
HEARING STORIES YOU HAVE NEVER TOLD ME.

they will never find your secrets because
all of them have been taken under my
wing and stored for myself. these are
my memories that nobody can have.

if i can't have any of them for myself.

- kra

from this distance, the town looked like paper shaped
into origami buildings. you could tell that everything
has it's own hue of smoke and mirrors, even though
all of us are made out of the same material.

the buildings were built to fall apart eventually,
like a tooth pick and marshmellow tower, and
it's all because the fragility of these things we
don't notice. we do not notice the frailness
of these things because we are desensitied
to the idea of things lasting forever.

you could see how fake everything has became
like a fog enveloping the town from this distance.
nobody notices the big picture because the small
things are always more difficult to ignore.

everything was made of plastic and paper, and the
only thing that wasn't fake were the memories
behind this town. people don't strain their necks
when looking back at this flash frame town.

they don't feel the need to.

- kra

"you symbolize living here, and that's why some
days i miss you more than others. some days, i
can forget about you. mostly, it's next to impossible."

then again, chasing you felt like racing to the hospital.
as the odometer rose, the pain inside my chest only
grew from moderate to severe. the safe haven was
the hospital room where you would stabilize and
make your patients feel better. the car was going
eighty five in a sixty line. no matter how far we got,
it seemed like the cops were at every corner waiting.

the speeding tickets would only hold me back for
so long until the pain would become something
only a legendary warrior of battle could ignore.

and when i finally got to the hospital, no patients
were getting let in. i'm still in the waiting room
where the pain is next to impossible to ignore.

you symbolize this hospital room. this is what
i waited for to ease my pain, but at what cost
when i got a lollipop and a smiley face sticker
for my speeding tickets and the unbearable wait?

- kra

for now on, i will pretend that you are at arms
distance from the black hole that ****** you in.

i will pretend that you are mercury and i am
venus, that the sun shows me that i don't need
to expand my line of sight to find you.

sometimes, you will be on the other side of
the sun where that black hole is and i will
have to trust those animal instincts.

i will pretend that the black hole that can ****
you in at any moment does not exist for me.
the next time we meet, you will act indifferent
about hanging out around the black hole that
keeps my gravity on it's toes. you will ignore it.

you will remember the briefness of the doubt
i confided in you, about how i am terrified of
putting our planets at risk of sinking into a
darkness i am very familiar with, like old
friends who threatened your safety with
a meteor shower. the astronauts do not show
the meteors and what damage they cause to
these vulnerable planets. you see, i am very
concerned for your safety, so i threw myself
in front of the meteors. no matter what,
nobody could tell the difference.

i am the shadow of mercury. i capture things,
like flies and hearts and still we are lines that
are perpendicular, we meet once and do not
meet again. maybe my shadow hasn't lingered
long enough for you to realize that i will secede
from this position if you just let me get lost in
your darkness. i will let you see the craters
you have left in my carbon dioxide world.

you will realize that i cannot breathe without
you and that is not something i want to get
a gold plated medal for. let me forget this
orbit and practice orbiting around you again.

i want to create pretty constellations and
solar systems inside of your skin. i want
you to believe it is happening. the only
gold plated medal i need is simply put: you

- kra

"only feast on what is absolutely necessary.
do not substitute. stay content with the cycle."

did my mother know i struggled to break this
cycle, that being a herbivore was necessary for
my healing process? being an omnivore and
substituting you for other things always left
my stomach an empty void that could not be
filled with temporary smiles. i haven't quite recovered
from the last time i indulged on you as a guilty
pleasure. but what does that even matter to you
when the necessities to you do not involve me?
i will not be thanking for anything at the table
because i'm not sure if i can handle thanking
god for someone who is only a hovering shadow
upon me who doesn't remember my own name
unless she is sitting at the table along with me.

- kra

it's never bitter between us
but the aftertaste is poison

- kra

the story always starts and ends with
the same exact thing: barriers.

the welcoming mat wasn't always
so unwelcoming. the public used to
walk into the doors of your soul,
peer in and examine you, and
if they liked it there, they would
rent out a part of you and you
would be the determining factor
if you should keep them there.

so it wasn't a surprise that maybe
i overstayed past my rent date
and never paid the bills because
i believed maybe, just maybe,
i didn't have to pay because i
was one of your favorite tenants.

now it's like the doorway to your
friendship is behind barriers of
broken trust. i am only invited
into your home as a peace treaty,
never as a favorite tenant.

the fact i have to scale down my
existence, which isn't exactly big
in the first place, to make you
happy infuriates me.

i will cross a ******* ocean, and
with every kick against the angry
waves, i hope you will see with
each tiring kick that i am restless

each time 11:11 hits, i wish for
you to, at least, be friends with
me again, and i still don't
believe in the 11:11 *******.

i just do it anyway hoping someday
i won't have to pay rent or abide by
a ******* peace treaty to live within you.

- kra

today, i hired a night guard for
these night terrors are starting
to interrupt my waking hours.

they are chameleons that look
exactly like you and talk like
you but they are not you.

i still let those creatures in, yet
i do not know what lies under
that fleeting smile of yours.

your smile is a dandelion that
plucks itself off from the stem
and follows the zephyrs.

you do not come find me
and you do not come follow me.

it's as if you are in traffic on
a one way road, and turning
around for me isn't an option.

- kra

maybe you didn't catch onto
the fact that this was a feeble
game of hide-and-seek.

or maybe we misinterpreted
that we were the ones to hide
away from each other instead
of homing in on each other.

you only notice me when i
am not hiding. what is the
point of seeking someone
who forgets me constantly?

i wanted to create a friend
ship that could be wilder
and more free than any
forest fire or any jungle,

but i was too busy hiding
fearing that you wouldn't
find me buried deep in
these fears and regrets.

maybe that's what happened.

you never found me because
you didn't bother looking even
after waiting to be found.

all this time, you expected to
be found by people who weren't
even associated in our game of
hide and seek.

you know, my efforts to make
you see that you would be treated
like you deserve would be futile.

sometimes, the results vary but
at what cost when i get nowhere?

i could scream at the wind
i could swim out to the deep
i could walk miles in dense forest
to find you and you would likely
appreciate it more if it wasn't me.

- kra

ostracized from humans
and somehow i've grown accustomed
to being alone

- kra

without hesitation, i asked everyone
in the room a lighthearted question.
"you know who my best friend is?"
in the same breath, you spit out
"me." what surprised me the most
was that you didn't even think about
the question. it came naturally to you,
like how most things come. at that
moment, my spirit left my body all
in the matter of the seconds between
your reply and my initial reaction.
my soul traveled to the times we were happy,
telling each other secrets and keeping those
promises that we swore under oath. the
dreams we had about each other would
always be good dreams, not nightmares.
as much as i'd like to admit that there is
still something there, that i will be able to
call you my sister & my best friend again,
i had to be honest. i was never honest
to you and that's how i lost you. there
was nothing i could do to take back the
"no" that rolled off my tongue like an
avalanche or a confession to a holy
priest and between me and god, you
are the closest i've gotten to god. the
back burner you left me on has left
third degree burns but isn't dying a
martyr to you the best way to go?
or would you be the one to turn the
other way if i challenged death?

- kra

"when god was chasing you,
why did you leave him at arms distance?"
i wonder if god knows that i haven't been
finding peace in anything lately. the last
time i felt safe and secure within this shell
casing called my skin was when they opened
up their arms like a door and told me it was
safe to look inside even if it was for fifteen
seconds to spare. i only wish i could keep
the door open, but I'm not a very good
doorstop. the only things that i can stop is
people getting closer than arms distance
because i can remember the last time
god abandoned me. i am not the architect.
i am a demolition expert.

- kra