these chandeliers were home to roses, now fallen petals on this abandoned courtyard
short handed late traced steps and short lived excitement, we are concentric beings
filled with the same steadfast frame of mind, brick by unnerving bricks tower over
burnt down villages, this love found in fairytales doesn't truly exist in real life
there's a hot wired circuit around my blighted mind, suffering from dementia,
or was the diagnosis faith in this fantasy world i created with vivid metaphors
and words i cannot pronounce, just to get across the fact that i believe in this type
of coping mechanism, that this silence is the most clearest my mind's ever been
at the lowest level of the food chain is where i sit, waiting to be swallowed
and spit out into a world with the core being torrid obsidian matching the
color of the asphalt where i once laid and the color of people's hearts
i've met over the years, serendipity is nonexistant just like chivalry
although i really wish there was such a thing as chivalry in real life

- 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

self-servient & absorbed like mercury
in your own skin must feel exhausting.
trapped under your eagle-like gaze
like a bird - caged & provoked, becoming
familiar with the poking and prodding as
if i am a science experiment, and you want
to test out multiple hypothesizes on me
must be exhausting to others also.

i became a wounded animal, where these
wounds become an after thought. the
memory of you is a disturbing humming
in my head now, distributing parts to trauma
that you contributed towards. at the end of it, i
wondered if you were the coward, unable to
reform and recognize the damage you created.

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

i refuse to die unnoticed; i am a cloudless interruption
attempting to expose the demons inside of you as well
as myself, raining bullets of tears upon you and drowning
my sorrows into your sea. like a predator, you destroy the
vital parts of myself, parts i didn't know was drenched in
your blood because i feel you running in these veins. maybe
i could sew these eyelids together to shut the reality off because
i get weary and exhausted chasing something so out of my reach,
because i am the sun and you are the moon, and time will bring us
together, but i am so tired of being on the wrong side of the battlefield
without you by my side, i wish this nightmare would end for me already

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

- 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

suppressing our misgivings,
we grabbed the plump scarlet
fruit out of the hands of the tree
it was a rule: do not fall victim
to the tree in the garden of eve.
however, the snake was a charmer
playing the flute and coaxing me
out into the world of temptation
the apple, the craving
me, the instrument
the snake, the peer with many ways
to pressure. inhaling the enticing
scent, my stomach purred in
anticipation. mouth meets red skin
and yellow tinted flesh, mouth meets
a three headed serpent hiding within
the apple, who told me, "this is your
fate." he took me as his dinner, and
i came out in pocket-sized pieces.

- 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

"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

like a seesaw, there is a nonexistant stable foundation, only yes and no answers
you are a rhetorical question and an untested hypothesis, but this is all wrong
this army wasn't meant to stir in it's wake, and this was a natural homecoming
that could only end in some complex disaster, and my roots were torn from home,
swiftly kidnapped, finding eagerness in the idea of you and the solace you bring
i am acutely aware that you could bend me into whatever you wished, a bow on your tree
something proud that you can show everyone, but i'm scared of being treated less than deserved
like a crumpled up idea on paper that was never meant to be shown with the answer, solution, counterclaim written in permanent black marker, forevermore never changed in my eyes, i merely forgotten about the acid reflex i'd get after i was given a finalized ultimatum, forgotten how to see in color because my brain can only remember you in monochrome, but you're so vivid in my head, there's no way someone like you could be just smoke and mirrors, i've read and folded every page of your autobiography to save for later whenever i needed some peace of mind.

- 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

when did the green shrubs
clustered haphazardly in the earth
the flora and fauna
patched in the dirt
the gray croncrete slabs
right beneath my feet
cumulate into violent crimson
tints right before my eyes. when
did i start seeing the bloodshed?
when did the violence of earth
familiarize itself with me?

- k.a.

i'm two traits converged into one messy finger painted paradox
a disposition to do good, but i have maleficent intentions set in
stone, my mind shows me how i look in the mirror but the threads
of my body are like looking through a window, then again, who isn't
wondering about the reality other people hide like a facade, cleverly
subdued and sinking me in cold water until the ice is all i've ever known
love is a difficult topographic setup, unable to be evened out
inconsistant roads and treasonous dead ends bother me because
it's potential to break my interior and exterior, but what do i
matter? sticks and stones don't bother me, it's the words that
break my bones and assist my architecture i carefully built
along with my empire built from my bare hands to tumble
haphazardly out of my reach, pulling these weights along my
feet for some type of hope that things will finally become clear

- kra

you birthed this friendship,
and this is our inevitable destruction.

- 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

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

all you are is a bouquet of weeds, finding your
way through the cuts haphazardly placed on
my frail legs, and sitting in my veins rotting like
roadkill, turning the flowers in my stomach into
a swamp of misery and dehydration. as intrusive
as you are, i can't seem to get rid of you. nobody
told me that drugs is not only just opiates and
stimulates, that it could possibly be as much of a  
psychological need as love does to me. i couldn't
imagine being squeezed around my neck like a
snake, hand or noose deadlocking me but i suffocate
in my mistakes. so it makes sense that's why the
garden in my chest has been long forgotten about:
i've forgotten to take care of myself. i need people
to help me with making sure that i'm important and
vital to them. all i ever am is a bouquet of weeds, and
i feel like i grow so attached to a person that i end up
being that snake, noose, or hand constricting them
until they need to pry themselves loose. i'm sorry.

- kra

a myriad of gears perpetually in movement
feeding the wolf with lust-filled eyes
of the ****** desire he yearns for. i recognize
that i am not the only rabbit he has trapped
between his jaws, and fall into the repetitive
cycle again. this time, the wolf does not
recognize that - as a cog in the machine -
i can crank in reverse. the disconnect
has the features of his face faded into
something unrecognizable, yet i feed
the wolf, satiating his hunger for another
day to pause the disonnance of my brain.

you can't break my ******* heart if i
choose the option to not open it at all.

- k.a.

loss is a heavy word lacing it's way through the scribbles of your handwriting
loss is feeling the cold rain submerge you in hypothermia when it's daytime
inside the head of a poet lives beautiful but dark nature written into hieroglyphs
inside is the loss perceived as something you deserved that you dealt
outside of my own skin is a shell created to hinder me from this loss
outside of the heart is where love is mechanically created in it's array
calloused hands hold the true nature of self destruction symbolizing crows
calloused souls can't leave the earth because temporary memories keep them alive
intertwine our lyrics and scores and let's sink into the ocean of harmony
intertwine our fingers and completely subdue yourself to the music of hope

-kra

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

using stalagmite icycles as tooth picks in between the crevices of my head
my brain is getting frostbite as if i ate too much ice cream at once, but this
sporadic heartbeat is going into myocardial infarction, and all at once, every
second goes into slow motion, a familiar stillness before the blast of powerful
dynamite, bats living inside me are vexatious inside my head, like a parasite,
you weren't even noticed until you completely wracked my helpless body
with worms and ticks, leaving me with some sense of how a sick dog feels,
a walking contradiction and an anti-compressive depression that leaves me
with nothing. you're a sea that keeps on growing, a forest that keeps on burning
and a fire that is everlasting and almost behemoth, i'm helpless

- kra

you are my favorite book
with the worst of cliffhangers

- kra

i have found comedy in tragedy
and tragedy in comedy.

- kra

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

- kra

march eleventh:
the syllables of your name are small but the
meaning means something larger than life.
greek meaning: dark beauty, like an angel
of death, you had a short fuse that could
not be contained. you were a cannon that
shot out ***** of tangled roses, the thorns
wrapping around the stems in a embrace.
march twelfth:
the ghosts of my past have gotten friendlier
and more approachable. the sunrises have
gotten faster and the moon rises slower.
the tea burns the bottom of the tea kettle,
but we blame it on the age of the ***. the
tea still ends up empty before bedtime.
march thirteen:
finishing a book at a cliffhanger is like leaving
the tea on the stove longer than it should be.
you still taste the tea, but it leaves a bitter after
taste. maybe i should omit the lemons.
march fourteenth:
your mouth was a double barreled shotgun
and the words goodbye came out like wedding
vows. you had this way to entice a crowd and
leave them with a bittersweet aftertaste, like
a walk of shame. i was the one who kept coming
back because you still taste like the fresh tea to me.

- kra

5/18/16
14 days -
"empty love" is a boarded up home flooded in
and drowned out taking all of the things that
makes a home a sanctuary. it wilted the rose
petals, it left the house barren and heavy.

5/19/16
13 days -*
i'm as sober as i've ever been, but the
line still is blurred for me. my toes are
pushing the limits, touching the line,
daunting, taunting, flaunting, *wanting.

5/20/16
12 days -
what terrifies me is that you don't make
me feel like all the lights inside of me are
turned off. something in me comes to life.
it's the whiskey burning my throat, it's the
burning in my heart that collapses the days.

5/21/16
11 days -
something is ripping apart inside of myself,
it is the collapse of everything i've ever built
carefully placed up a house of cards only to
watch myself fall. i am not a good person.

5/22/16
10 days -
i hear the police sirens every time i catch a glimpse
of the white light of euphoria. it is actually the
lights of the oncoming train. it is death.

5/23/16
9 days -
human hands are always covered with bloodshed,
from hearts they've ripped and torn. we don't see
it because it's washed down the drain in the morning.

5/24/16
8 days -
sixty days since we talked. at seventy one days, we
will finally meet for the first time. you will see my
skeletons, the secrets hidden in my ribcage. i love
you so much that it lights my veins on fire.

5/25/16
7 days -
we are large demons hiding inside tiny bodies.
this rib cage is much too small to hide all of my
secrets. all of my deceit lies here rotting, growing
until the stench of curiosity becomes unbearable.

5/26/16
6 days -
this dense ache is becoming so heavy, but i would
still chase the sun even though all i can do is feel
her shine through parts of me every night.

5/27/16
5 days -
on the fifth day in our favorite game, a severe storm
happened. today, a severe storm happened. this is
only the beginning of the storm on north carolina.

5/28/16
4 days -
dare i say i will let you pull the switch and
drop the guillotine, because i trust you that
much more with letting me die. frankly, i
have no intention to continue to live.

5/29/16
3 days -
this might be the occasion that my lust will
burn at it's peak. somehow, i am trying to
find ways of smothering that smoke signal
that many people can't see from miles away.

5/30/16
2 days -
where the light is at, that's where i've always
pictured you. where the darkness exists, i'm
neck deep but still trying to swim towards
that light. everything seems to shrink lately.

5/31/16
1 day -
there is floundering in floral and foreplay, and
a beautiful disaster in the eyes of shakespeare
and hamlet, we are two created equals with
the idea that burning will keep us both safe.

6/1/16
0 days -
these thorns are tearing through my skin,
emptying out every single secret hidden
in my bloodstream. hopefully, none of
those secrets have your name on it.

- kra

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

- kra

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 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

when the words stuck in my throat mature
slowly like honeydew and childish adults,
that's when a line has to be drawn. when
words are lodged in your throat, not by
accident, that's where the line has to be
formed. when the scars of their words
leave you bottlenecked, trying to find the
words to express the vagueness of that
empty feeling, the line has been crossed.

- kra

HAVING DREAM CATCHERS ABOVE MY BED
AND CONTINUING TO HAVE THESE NIGHT
TERRORS IS IRONY BECAUSE YOU ALMOST
******* CONVINCED ME THAT YOU WERE
THE EXTERMINATOR TO THOSE NIGHTMARES
BUT GOD, WAS I DEAD WRONG ABOUT YOU.
YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE THE INSTRUMENTS TO
RECREATE ANYTHING GOOD IN MY DREAMS
ANYMORE. FRANKLY, ALL YOU ARE ANYMORE
IS THE TRIGGERS TO MY NIGHTMARES. THIS IS
WHY I DON'T BELIEVE IN FORTUNES, TAROT
CARDS, SPIRITS, AND MUCH LESS, GOOD LUCK.
NO DREAM CATCHER CAN FULLY REMOVE THE
SCARS YOU'VE LEFT IMPRINTED IN MY MIND.

"silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.”* ― friedrich nietzsche

like poking the hornet's nest with a stick, you are a rose with stems and thorns so thick,
your skin is protection from oppression, keeping the world out of your private channels
like i'm AM and you're FM all of which are static with distorted voices only science can pry through your enigmatic cacophony on a molecular level, and any evidence of who you are, i couldn't find with years of knowledge, a indestructible ship could speak more evidence about
why it was annihilated, obliterated, disintegrated under the ocean for months at a time without
any current survivors, and the last person i could be described as would be Sherlock Holmes
every detail washes over my head like a flood of details that can't enter because a force field
surround my head like it's a crown being so clueless, but it feels like i'm wearing a dunce hat
and maybe i do realize that there will be a position where you will be put out into light
there is no way out of your mind, like a schizophrenic, if kryptonite killed superman,
can it **** the infectious virus spreading like wildfire through these veins, can you stop
worrying about when you will finally break down and open up to someone?
****

- 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

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

nobody warned me that people came without seatbelts.
nobody warned me about the aftermath, where a sharp
turn can land you straight on your back, and i've been
on my back too many times to count on two hands.
2. create an escape to a world where you are the conductor
of the train, you hold the reins to the horse, you have the
controls to the carousels so you control your heart.
3. everyday is holding a bouquet of roses and jumping
out in front of traffic going seventy because i killed myself
alive. who knew that one person can make you pick apart
yourself until you really don't know who you are anymore?
4. the way you shifted from heartfelt promises to throwing
every single obscenity at me reminds me of how i shifted
from lukewarm coffee to burn my throat hot coffee.
5. you're thick on the air and i can hardly breathe.
6. i claw at my skin, insecure about how i've become,
knowing i've changed because of the anxiety you give me.
7. cows are branded to show ownership, and i feel like
you poked me with a white-hot branding iron without
remorse. i manage to push through each day.
8. the confidence i used to have in myself deteriorated over
the years. it feels like i'm standing in a choir singing the loudest
and my voice is slowly fading into all the other voices and losing
harmony until even i cannot understand what i'm singing.
9. i'm still so embarrassed that i held on to something that
has no intentions of staying for so long. i'm sorry i held on
so tightly where i was constricting you, you needed air.
10. i cannot go another day without you, yet i want to go
every day without hearing your name or seeing your face.

- kra

you suddenly realize our bodies are so temporary like trees that age
the only difference is that the carvings in my trees are painful scars
the carvings in your tree is full of hope while despair fills my gaps
and through the cracks are dynamite so don't use an axe or saw
your love is enough for me, maybe i'll grow fruit someday
maybe my roots will intertwine with yours across the forest
maybe beautiful fawns will notice me and prance my way
but what does it even matter, we will all die anyway
the trees die, the prettiest of flowers die, vines and grass take over
castles will disintegrate, houses will disintegrate, and i will be forgotten
what's the point when history won't remember my existence?

-kra

January brought cold weather, as well as a igloo shaped as home
fabricating a sort of warmth in a desiccated environment, it's a
sandpaper type coarse tip toe around the tacks scattered on the
floor type cold, childishly misplaced and a childish ignorance.
February brought one of the purest primrose flowers out of the
field, stuck in drought drowning in murky waters, covered in
dirt, and i washed away the dirt marks that i recall, was all over
you. It's a sobering feeling to find someone who completes you.
March brought lightning, but clouds shook the strikes away into
Davy Jones locker collected in mason jars, but lightning is not a
controlling virus. It doesn't hide it's burn marks or it's scars left
on vulnerable bodies that are at their tallest height, their peak.
April caused me to be a narcissistic but raucous child, enjoying
the effulgence showered on me, as well as the rain that poured.
This smile was stuck climbing to my ears, and I let life take the
rains as I stayed acquiesce to my worries. When it rains, it pours.
May brought a forest of doubt, growing introverted and placing
dynamite in my path, these mirrors won't show me anything but
the truth, anathema's bile spilled onto the yellow brick road and
I was dragged along for the unfortunate ride constantly mocked.
June was the end of the road and the start of a new and brighter
one, like a window flying open with all of my hopes and dreams
being carried by owls. My algorithm is being solved, one step up
without a tyrant. I'm going to dissociate myself from everyone.
July let the mirage give in, five years of desire to visit arizona
with it's rusty colored mountains and spiky tumbleweeds
sprawling hope back into my lungs that there is bandages
for the wound imprinted on my heart back in soggy April.
August showed me that it smells like burnt hair here, but the
good kind, if it makes sense, with hot air brushing against
my skin twirling with excitement that I've arrived, bringing
a bit of Texas with it. I've never been more happy to see rain.
September introduced me to jets at seven in the morning and
trains at ten, mountains that are almost an optical illusion, like
cardboard standups I could push over, and feelings of a lost friend
brought back after glancing back at my ex best friend of five years.
October was dressing up as my favorite movie character, kids
are quoting the movie as we fill our backpacks with dozens of
candy bars and filling me with the fresh october air and freedom.
Texas never provided that comfort. It's so real and overwhelming.
November was the interlude, 1,000 miles back to Texas brought
melancholy but i unraveled my roots back to the Greyhound,
an akin aching grandmother I brought back to her feet, as well
as got back to my feet when i slammed on my brakes and hit hope.
December brought me slamming my feet back onto the ground
when i left her walking home alone, but it taught me to love hard
and let go when you're given up on, that Christmas is all about
soft piano playing corny songs that are meant to bring you cheer.
Today brought me here.

- kra

stand by and listen to the jaws of this shark with
a vocabulary like a diamond - sharp and clear.
pity only yourself, you fickle & futile tyrant.
you stand for nothing and fall for anything,
and ride your bike on expressways as if there
is a bike lane especially reserved for you. in
this food chain, you are nothing more than
plankton while i am the great white whale,
casting a large overhead shadow over you
always leaving you on your tiptoes by the
boundary line. in this lane, i'll be the one
to forget my seat belt as i run you over.
somehow, i loved that selfish part of you.
somehow, i don't love that part of you, and
would love nothing more than to obliterate
you from my past and from my memories.

- kra

like backpedaling on a bicycle, after getting my bags and
burning the rest of the kisses you stole from me, you ran
back into me, making my life chaos and showing this ridiculous
front you painted on your face like clown makeup smiling
effortlessly acting like i didn't bleed you out of my veins, like
i didn't train my heart to swear under an oath not to paint you
back into my picture, maybe you know what i'm talking about,
nothing is perfectly in order for me and the tables turn before
i get a chance to come to a realization that the traction between
us is like fingers against a chalkboard, it's back and forth constant
fear of these red strings i can't seem to cut with my safety
scissors as fingers and i am a small miniscule vessel at war with
this violent storm mother nature sheds onto me, coloring
me in blue and black war paint but i will fight back this time
and i will not teeter on the edge and prevent biting my tongue


- 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

we start out in the middle of a spider's web, where doors surround us that lead
to grassy roads and rocky roads, difficult to maneuver through, but i've walked
on burning coals and left my fingers bleeding from scratching at your door like
a dog abandoned in the winter frost, because i felt more secure with the honors
of you destroying my house built out of marshmellows and toothpicks, and i
don't want you half empty or half full, i want you coloring inside and outside
the lines overflowing the spaces of my heart you occupied and called home,
but i'm responsible for raining on your parade and shattering your soul, but
even i know all these ways of binding you to myself with glue, duct tape, stitches,
gum, staples, paperclips, knots, can't keep under wraps for long, so i will let my
clouds swell with compassion you couldn't understand because you're the flashlight
in my haunted forest, shining a light on any ghosts that seem damaging to myself
because you've always been there to guide me back home and keep me from falling
from grace headfirst, but mother nature decides what sickening plot twist will destroy
us, and you know i can't control the disgusting weather but i wish i could.

- kra

being with someone you were once severed
from is like waiting for a wound to heal in a
dust storm. if i could just drown myself, it
would be in an alcoholic daze, because the
hangover was a better cure at getting you
out of my focus. better yet, if i could just
drown all of my worries out at sea, i would
but unfortunately, i would still be able to
taste you on my tongue that way, and the
suspense
                is
                   *******
                                 killing
                                             me
if i'm going to be falling up or falling down
i'm not going to know until the moment we
fall back together, but i will guard myself
from the arrows i'm expecting from you

- kra

six months pass, my mind is on the sun and
you are the moon. there must have been a
solar eclipse event i wasn't prepared for,
because that's a sign the world is ending,
and god help me, my world is falling apart.

six months pass, and it's snowing in the
middle of july. that was foreshadowing
of the storm i would come to experience,
so i watched from inside as the snow piled
up, burying me under layers of her icy stare.

six months pass, and i have learned to see past
this dystopia you have given me a hand in
building. next time, drop bombs, not hearts.

- 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

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

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

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

- kra

my mind is like firecrackers
explodes with thoughts
of you.

- 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