things have become sentient, lively, breathing
lately - blossoming violently like wildflowers
and chrysanthemums - suppressing the never
ending void sitting in my stomach. things like
anxiety haven't disappeared - like the green of
jealousy - like the green of sickness that i get
when my best-friend complex comes into play.
i have been having trouble developing myself
into a home. instead, i've been lighting forest
fires watching these trees transfer over into
death. i have been dependent on lighthouses
to guide me to safety. there are people i ask
for to guide me home, but they're in the line
of fire. it's between one important body or
thousands of bodies. i have not been able
to grow enough to avoid choosing mind
over matter. things have become harder,
suffocating, and more complex lately, but
i'm finally whole. for the first time in my
life, i'm a butterfly. of course, this always
comes with a price - with chained feet.

- kra

these four chambers idle inside my ribcage
is the devil's drumset. oh, does he like the
erratic melody collapsing into weak thuds.
2. shapeshifting is new to me. as a chameleon,
i adjusted myself to your brightest ebbs and
your darkest flows and attempt to maintain
my true form. it's harder than you think.
3. the sun gave me his hands and it became
harder to hold onto you. you became the
ocean and suddenly every ocean evaporated.
all the sea creatures started dying and all i do
is leave people rubbing aloe vera on their skin.
4. every inch i get near you is getting me nowhere.
if i put down measuring tape between the gap
between us, the number of miles between us
will consistently stay the same.
5. shhh. let's be quiet so we don't wake the
monsters. let's tiptoe to somewhere quiet.
6. let's burn the evidence, let the smoke,
embers, and ashen dissipate and spread
itself out. let the ghosts be hidden in the
dead hollowed trees and splintered roots.
7. you see right through me, a window
less house groaning as the second story floor
caves into itself, without sympathy

- kra

when i look at you, i see varieties of magenta:
i see blood-stained bedsheets, martial laws,
lack of leverage, pale skin with blue veins
popping out in a coquettish manner, flames
spewing out from lava, fault lines, the first
chakra located at the base of the spine, a
constant threat of losing choke hold on the
utopia i've built from scratch, horror movie
shrieks, regret, so much regret, panic attacks,
faces red with tears streaming like waterfalls,
and the ultra violence one of the seven deadly
sins bring: wrath. what i don't admit is that,
even when i look at the thing i fear the most
in the eyes, i see the passion, sensitivity, and
love that have shriveled up and died from time.

- 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

we share saliva like secrets between friends,
taste each other like the appetizers before the main course,
**** frantically like rabbits, and the lights still stay off when
we make love.
it’s not until
her name
spills
from your tongue as we make love &
i have cottonmouth.
you don’t apologize either.

i write love songs for you in the sand, but high tide
always dissolves my words by sunrise. the hazy sunlight
floats through the early morning window, and the ghosts
invite themselves into my home and inside my head. i
have to ask, is it love if I take you, or is it love if I set you
free? my words become meaningless if my mouth can’t
keep up with your insatiable animal instinct. is this
the only way i can separate you from calling me a
friend, by separating my legs?

i am seeing beyond your parallels, the routine you
are living in discontent with the way you are strictly
forbidden to be unbridled, so i blinded you to my
antics, because revenge is either clean or messy, but
i like to leave traces of myself in everything i touch
this is my revenge, watching you from my hindsight
as similar as a dog, and remembering what it was like
to be denied my robust but brass voice, and as the alcohol
drips off your tongue, i remember you aren't a drinker
you only drink during contemplating angry thinking,
the alcohol washed over the bridges that led to my heart
and i lit them on fire with a snap of my fingers, and
i watched you fall out of yourself, like a spirit that was
released as soon as i denied you entrance to my soul
you ruined the very best parts of me. i used to be normal.
i know there isn't such a thing as normal, but i wasn't
waking up from dreams thrashing and screaming how
you are a vulture, picking at my skin and destroying me
and all i ever wanted was to find my happy place, but this
is not happy and i struggle day by day crying for solace

- met

i think about all the insurmountable times i have
watched myself shave off the bark of my skin
to watch others thrive and blossom violently like
wildflowers and chrysanthemums. i think of how
you have always been a tree – tall, mighty, powerful
- with roots that don't seem to make mine feel like
weeds. teach me, for i aspire to be luminous, tree.
i dream of worlds made of jasmine and honeysuckle,
of utopias devoid of the bark i've shaved off my back.
i dream of sap that feels a little less like magma and
a lot more like maple syrup. i dream of roots that
doesn't feel like granite and completely calcified.
teach me, for i aspire to be luminous, tree.

~
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

to own the parallel structure of your house, i would
have to peel my own floorboards back, tear them off
like day old bandaids, and install plain oatmeal colored
tiles to lose the meaning of myself. i would restructure
the blueprints of the hallow home of my chest, and leave
no room for any florescent lights. the darkness can’t dim
the fact that i am brimming with regrets and questions
that are quickly turning rotten. the answers are losing their
meaning. coming face to face with the wolf, the dread i
used to get as the sheep, it’s losing its meaning. when
i repainted myself, there were still parts of you lying
around like loose hairpins, but i’m leaving no room
for the loose hairpins. the fear i had turning on the
florescent lights, of seeing my hands painted red
with blood i didn’t know i spilled, was becoming
a learning experience. all this time, i've been seeing
you in my ideal vision: sturdy like steel beams, but
there has always been that marshmallows and tooth
pick-like foundation you've been keeping up around
me. i can't see you as parallel structures anymore. look
at me. did you ever actually look at me without disgust
of the blood i spilled, and tell me things with honesty?

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

i've found myself merging into a race of people
where i am nothing but lightning, so painfully
visible but not loud enough to be thunder. my
body started springing up from the earth into a
thorn bush, not yet becoming roses. although
when my feet hit cement, they leave behind
a path of flowers that quickly manage to cease.
my brain is wired in a way where i don't sense
destruction until it creeps up on me like the flu.
like a leech, i desperately latch onto my mistakes
because they are expectant and familiar with me
and i am familiar with them. i don't know a life
without sadness but i know how to be happy.

- kra

no longer will i glaze my eyes over the world in
monotone colors since all the colors were drained
from this memory. no longer will i sit back, watching
someone like you play favorites and pity the scars on
my legs. no longer will these mountains be a prison for
me. no longer will i let a person imprison me who leaves
me uninhabitable in the end and reopens fresh wounds.
i will surpass you one thousand times over, and play god.
for now, i am broadcasting in god's place since i was
tricked into thinking someone like you was my savior.
i will become the omnipresent regret and the everlasting
guilt. i will leave you aching, hungry, wounded, lost, and
alone. no longer will i be the roadkill, i will be the weapon
but no longer will my body be used to hurt another.

- kra

every ***** and deadbolt securely fastened in
my chest was unlatched, unscrewed, unfastened,
like a brassiere, yet it was also captivated by you.
for so long, i was simply a crane building towers
around me but you saw more use in me. turns
out, that use was also used to manipulate my
inner chords. no matter how long it took me to
write the musical notes, the harmony i once knew
was becoming weaker and weaker. at the time, i
should have known there was only static noise.
there was only brick walls and towers, only screws
and deadbolts securely fastened to your chest, only
a harmony i can't find the right notes to hit.

- kra

first impressions are always a joke. even lucifer
had fooled everyone at some point. that's why,
don't forget that even the wolves are trained to
act like lambs, where fangs are concealed with
candy-coated charismatic words. the fluidity of
their tongues carry deceit. their bruised hands
may look like burdens they've had to carry, but
everyone has their share of demons. they have
experienced the transition from innocence to
corruption, faced it with gnashing teeth. these
self-proclaimed heroes are nothing but drawings.
seasons change, so does the heroes. like the
quote goes, you either die a hero, or live long
enough to see yourself become the villain.

with this message, i will proceed to betray
everyone i ever loved. i am in perfect
symmetry with my eradication.

- 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

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

"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

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

to watch myself shrink down small enough to enter
into the crack of your doorway made me realize a
lot about how i stretched myself out just to have
memories that were almost phantasmagoric. the
beauty naturally made way for the beast, letting the
claws grip her by the throat. it was almost like wild
flowers shedding their petals for winter. it wasn't
a choice to place myself behind the barrel of the gun.
it was a matter of being a martyr, just to live with
something to believe in. now that i think about it,
the signs were all there. the gut feeling of uncertainty
always sat in my stomach uncomfortably even when
i sat her down, told her how important i saw her, and
she lied straight to my ******* face. it was a matter of
not seeing what was always there behind the scenes.
when i met you, i had that same phantasmagoric
feeling about you. not for one second have i ever
doubted you, nor have i doubted every single time
i got to see you. that was the big difference. i've
been reaching for things that are dead for so long,
i've forgotten how to be alive. thanks for being a
teacher of sorts, to teach me how to live again.

i'm starting to believe in the theory that i'm
a ghost. now i've become desensitized to my
footsteps aside from being drunk, and who
knows if i'm making all of those sounds up?
it's all starting to sound like harsh noise.

people have started to be scared of getting
close to me, because they've felt how cold
the air around me is. i've practiced covering
for my demons, but now it's getting rough.

i'm starting to lose sight of why i'm here
because people are losing sight of me. i
am a chameleon. i disappear, and no sane
person wants to look for the lost ghost.

the people who do not see through me paint
smiles on their faces, and pretend i am not an
open casket funeral. my cries for help become
blurred by the river of denial they drown in.
the longer you keep your eyes open under
water, the more it burns. the longer you wait
for the buzzards, the more likely they'll come.

the longer i wait to bury the skeletons under
my bed and in my closets, the higher they'll
stack. i need to erase all of those skeletons.

i need to begin erasing myself.

- 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

over 95% of the ocean has been undiscovered, and
i wonder if i'm the only one who is so curious to
see the unknown depths where sea creatures adapt
and confine to the dark, it is a wonder that they
have not had any second thoughts about the sunlight.
i wonder if i'm the only one who is so curious to get
into the minds of these creatures, who are so afraid
of the light as i am. maybe they're not afraid at all.
maybe they have grown accustomed to the darkness.
perhaps it's a way to hide and shelter from the predators
so the most vulnerable do not become the prey as i have.
i wonder if i was destined to be the sun and yourself
the ocean, the world's biggest juxtaposition. maybe i
wasn't careful with my high and mighty position up
there on cloud nine and abused it, because all i do is
reach for the safety of your ocean, and wish for the
calm waters to envelope the parts of me that just
leaves third degree burns and people rubbing aloe
vera onto their skin. when i reached down to grab you,
the waters in the ocean shifted vehemently, and the sea
animals concaved into the darkness of the waters i may
never get to touch. over 95% of the ocean hasn't been
discovered, and i know only 5% of what the ocean
has to offer. over time, you have become a close
relative to this metaphor. i've went from discovering
95% of your brain patterns to only 5%. i am merely a
whirlwind of rain in your hydrophobic world, and
all i want to do is be your umbrella even if the rain
is acidic and burns me the way i burn everyone
else and leave people rubbing aloe vera onto their
skin. to this day, i have navigated only 5% of your
uncharted waters, and some days i want to swim
further down and risk swimming in the same sea
with the sharks just to figure out the type of person
you are. that's what being friends with you now feels like.

- kra

this house is a cage for the deceitful lovers
and a loony bin for the normal. to call this
a shelter, protecting and comfortable, is
laughable. this house was made out of
all skin and no bone. the notion of losing
yourself to these white lies, to see yourself
put on a face unfamiliar, is a tragedy. i found
skeletons in the closets and blood coming out
of the bathroom sink faucets. i found black
widows underneath mattresses, scorpions hiding
between folds of the covers i sleep on. to feel
the opposite of reassuring in what plays itself
to be a warm house, is terrifying. i plan on
turning white, becoming the very lies so they
become true. the destiny of my lies built a
house of sand, and i’m being slowly swallowed
whole by the sands. i hide behind eight masks,
all to cover up my seven deadly sins. there is
unrest in this house. a monster lives here, i see
the blood everywhere i look and the scratch marks.
why does the monster only attack me and leave
more unnecessary scars? why does he make a
home in this house, put on my face, and walks
around like the floorboards aren’t the same quick
sand that dragged him into its grasp?

- 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

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

there are ghosts in the last home i lived in.
there is war, bloodshed, tears stained like
red wine on white rugs burned into the
blueprints of the architecture of this home.
children's laughter rings through this hall
way, but these walls know only stories of
my fingerprints leaving deep impressions
on the people who still live in that home.
this laughter is starting to sound almost
menacing, accusatory, a sound i'm starting
to dread. everyone acknowledges the ghost,
but they tend to avoid talking about it’s
presence. those windows know nothing
but rainy days, stormy nights, blinding
sunny days, and the sound of my voice.
if they're lucky, the people who live in
that house can hear my voice, even if
they're forgetting how it sounds.

i'm forgetting how nice it sounds to be
acknowledged, not as an impression of
an apparition burned into the walls.

- kra

i was born to love madness
because i am madness

- 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

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

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

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

i am the femme fetale who
doesn't see the lights of the train
but lures people towards the tracks
i am the siren who doesn't know
her singing creates destruction
ensnaring victims with her voice
i am the whirlwind that creates
sinkholes with warm words
soft embraces, gentle whispers,
i am the quiet
before the explosion of a grenade
i am the explosives
but i look just like alluring magic
when you sink down here,
pitch black becomes your muse
instead of the kaleidoscope you
seemed like you were expecting
you swallow me, all warm words,
all soft embraces, all gentle whispers,
but embracing me is like a car crash
where the impact may be fatal

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

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

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

"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

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

denial
my fingers always ruined what
i touched, like the midas touch
i had corroded people. yet i let
myself believe i was helping. the
anger
was never your fault. your wall
you built made the wall of china
look like a scaled down model
yet i am still waiting, mourning
bargaining
you for a solution. one that i know
doesn't come cheap. i made sacrifices
for you, and they always flew over
your head. the doctors call what i have
depression
i let you sink into my bone marrow and
**** like a leech the vital parts of myself
and you left. i opened the door for you
to walk out of, and i became so ashamed
of it. but somehow, i managed to find
acceptance**
that you weren't coming back. it was
almost like you went into hibernation
into your own head and didn't want
to wake up and see the sun.

- kra

in retrospect, the banging in the room could
have been mistaken for an escalating argument,
or even something more passionate,
but it was my deafening heartbeat,
as loud as a car crash, over and over,
in my dreams, i hold the paintbrush
and i paint
your sunset eyes,
your sunrise smile,
dimples like valleys,
our worlds lie on this parallel plane where
our strings cross once and don't meet again

that must mean you're a muse
or a tragedy waiting to happen,
so it's losing the fear of falling
so it's falling in love
so it's understanding myself through you
so it's understanding you through the window
rather than staring at you through a mirror

i have found comedy in tragedy
and tragedy in comedy.

- 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

once you learn the self-efficient art of
losing yourself to denial, the lenses are
blacked out - replaced by a similar world
to the world before - but easier to stand in.
i've gotten denial down to a science. smoke
and mirrors became something i'm smart
at doing: reflecting, refracting, d i m m i n g
the lights. where is the plan b of denial at?

there is nothing to stand behind. i have
nothing to offer and nothing to give.

i'm losing my obscurity because i'm letting
my walls down around you. what does it
mean to play by the rules when i bend them?

- 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

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

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

the doors are open. there is something you have that
i need. i've been driving since march, taking the
longest route. whenever you get to your final
destination, you're expecting to get exactly
what you drove through heavy rain or
blinding sunlight for. turns out, the shorter
route could have gotten me closer to getting
what i came there for. all of you is taken from
me. there is nothing left for me. the doors are shut.

- kra

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

- kra

as if reduction doesn’t matter, lately i’ve
felt that this loneliness has become a curse.
2. sometimes, home feels like a fragmented
halfway home and your personal cell is your
bedroom. the bedroom walls are the only
comfort you get anymore and that’s okay.
3. untangle yourself from them. the vital stitches
does get worn and die like the very veins resting
beneath the ghostly white skin you reside in.
unhealthy habits turn into acute prisons.
4. family rests where your heart rests. remember
that adam and eve developed every single person
you met over the long course of time.
5. don’t dare to be anything but happy.  
6. when your parents eyes glaze over when you
are uncertain, don’t think you are at fault. life
did not hand you a manual stating you need to
follow the advice given to you.
7. someone who reads between the lines of
your words and knows the moment your life
is hanging on a balance is true family.
8. i'm being reduced, from my name being used
frequently in conversations down to once in a
blue moon. i'm starting to be okay with it.

- 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