i don't believe in the hypocritical moralistic dogma of this so-called civilized society
everyone is finicky, demanding, and ignorant, like society runs on their selfish need
humanity is unhealthy, diseased, deceived by the smoke and mirrors of propriety
starving poets living off their art, starving celebrities living off their titanic sized greed
and people wonder why we have criminals who will do anything to get away with crime
if everyone saw the real side of people, trust would be another delusional superstition
guilt is like spiders crawling onto your naked skin and onto your famished spine
some people believe they are the bricks to rebuild a home with ammunition
we are force fed trust in these strangers in a extremely vulnerable habitat
like a bird's feathers clipped off, we are unable to fly, unable to breathe
like an army without weapons, we are unprepared for the sudden combat
like a witches cauldron, the brain's contents bubble and seethe

-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

i started a collection inside of my ribcage
of birds that tickled me pink and red and
eventually blue. i lost enough blood to call
it a suicide from withholding harmless
animals so tightly in a confined space that
there was only one way out. after that mishap,
i started growing flowers and writing endless
metaphors about you, describing how you
make the stars dim out in embarrassment of
itself and how benign your disposition was.
you wonder why i watched the flowers wilt
and why i wanted the stars to ultimately turn
the sky into a deep asphalt color. you wonder
why i couldn't breathe when i tried my hardest
to be on your good side whenever you were at
the top of the food chain and i was below you.
looking at you made me see why i forgot to
take care of myself, because all of my focus
was trying to connect the dots of our friendship
and bring peace between us again. my words,
shaped into metaphors, turned into dust after
i burned every evidence of you. i am tired of
waking up in a hospital after a failed attempt
to completely forget you for good.

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

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 am hopelessly enchanted with the ghosts
hiding in the attic, the dilapidated dust-mite
covered picture frames, and the plastic worn dolls
wearing their frilly dresses. the things that are
endlessly fascinating that wash me offshore, i
battle currents to find them. i am humbling,
yet i have a strong lack of courage. the words
i want to say become dust mites, float away
into the air, and meet another mouth distant
from mine. the attic becomes an abandoned
studio, where the beautiful things lie alone.
my hands yearn to meet with the ghosts.

- kra

my jewels bestowed onto me are hanging from my dead limbs like a noose,
but due to my inferior intellect, these delusional gods will bring me to hell's gates
for the world's stigma on my definition of jewels has a red stamp with
the words WARNING on it, my dull inane shadow cannot compare
to the hundreds suffering in the same recession i am, mouths are speaking
to me, but my ears aren't listening, like once the repeated record from you
plays, a sound proof room surrounds the vicinity and intrudes the space
between you and me, my body is not translucent, i was carved out of
marble but vines and weeds entangled my crevices and made me grotesque
this dystopia people are telling me about that i live in is a utopia to myself
i'm near the condition of declining into a whirlwind of nothing and i'm fine
with it, as long as Holden Caulfield catches me when I fall into the rye alone

- kra

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

“The beginning is perhaps more difficult than anything else,
but keep heart, it will turn out all right.” ― Vincent van Gogh*

the grand canyon knows nothing of being hallow like the
depth of the space between my ladder ribcage, climbing
out of this rut would be like rock climbing mount everest
without the correct equipment, but beginnings aren't
supposed to be endless paragraphs of traps you made
me so oblivious to. my hands have touched hell's scorch
and have brushed your heart strings, but nothing compares
to the way you make everything seem like a dream, like
an acid trip that took you into outer space and made you
float, but i'm tired of gravity pushing me down and this
is just pointless suffering, i'm not healing anytime soon
and my wishes are for the closure i haven't received yet
i have reached my breaking point.
               it is a decaying cage designed for me.
                              i cannot see anything but good memories.
         h  e  l  p     m  e                                 i am going blind, i am terrified.
                           these monsters don't want to wish me adieu.
                bottlenecked like condensed traffic,
and stuck inside my head.
this isn't a place for you to call home, i am a prison.
you couldn't thrive inside of my heart, it would be
asphyxiating for you because my heart is like a snake
squeezing tighter and tighter, i am not a home for you.
leave before i take every good part of you and destroy it.

- kra

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

- kra

the surgical procedure required to probe into your
skull is way too difficult for me. how difficult is it to
learn how to examine the thoughts you conjure up,
like arithmetic or magic. the stem cutters to pull the
dead roots out of you are dull, like the color of dead
coral or fishes that don't see sunlight. maybe the fishes
just don't swim to the surface too often. if i would have
seen your arsenal and armory before i dedicated every
inch of my pointless existence of a heart to you, every
hour of my life wouldn't hold disdain and regret for you.
the only difference between us and a car crash was that
the shrapnel and glass was our shattered memories.
the hairline fractures that are burned into my wrist's bones
have turned into full blown fragments eradicated from the
ligaments. i've seen fall, winter, spring, and summer meet
all in the same day because of you. you are an impossible
calculation, a lobotomy no pet scanner can recognize.

- 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'm an empty optimistic in a world where lost souls remain
we're all threaded together by birth, given the consequences
but what are we without an upper and a even worse downer
those who survive the downers, sometimes never get back up
did you feel the connection, like our roots locked together
like we were handcuffed in familiarity, but you are as
recognizable as my own heartbeat and it seems so natural,
when you sing without the blissful harmony we used to
sing together in unison, careless and carefree, and my
heart is eroding day by day, would you still be able to swim
if i taught you when i could and would you still be able to speak
if i paid attention to you as i should but you inflict your pain back
at others, is that how our world survived with the wildlife and it's fires,
burning our only chance at safety, but i tried to extinguish the devastation
and i'm a shapeless survivor with reasons to seek, ****, and destroy
in a way, does this make me the hero of the story, stripping the evil down?
if you forgave me, i would be able to forget because i'm still carrying your
world on my shoulders, and even though hearing your name makes me
sick to my stomach, my body will refuse to give in to the peer pressure
if i winded the hands of a clock, could i possibly strip your walls down still
or could i stop caring and get revenge, which could possibly be a thrill

-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

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

to own up to your crimes,
first, you must admit to the jury of
the candles lit that burned bridges,
let's have a drink for your children,
innocent, untainted, left in the dark,
unable to see the fires their father
left behind. how do you not smell
the burning embers on him? how
do you not smell the offal?

in the absence of hope,
there was women,
and that's how i will begin my revolution;
i'll create waves so strong, ridges form in
concrete stone with power-hungry women.
i will bring my strongest army, all the artillery
i can wield, if only to feel safe again in my skin.

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

the world is a machine built of scorpions and wolves, praying for sleep and
soft lullabies. the wheels and knobs turn endlessly, recklessly howling at the
stars for it's desirable solace, like ghosts stuck on earth preying on others for
revenge for being sentient puppets tangled in the strings, thrashing in their
thoughts, stuck in a everlasting cycle carrying around burdens like a courier
through dense forests and vast wastelands, burning bridges and bibles and
throwing gasoline upon the architectures built up and setting them on fire
but i feel hands of fear at my ankles, pulling me into the restless ocean
with a pulsating ache, wolves howl from the insides of my barren stomach
and making them be quiet is difficult, if duct tape worked, it would help
these knives for fingers cut through anything, but it can't cut through you

- kra

i am a whirlwind of rain on a hydrophobic world, an angel
of death scraping by like a vulture, picking at skin and bone
and leaving scratches on doors and blood puddles on floors
my blindness is as translucent as a jellyfish's sight, my mind
is shattered, and my memory is coming back slowly, piece by
brittle piece, and the emergency exits are sealed against me
so i travel in concentric circles trying to find a way out of this
labyrinth, only to catch the waters attention and grasp me by
the throat and gag me unconscious, only to see black afterward
i'm living each day through my mistakes, and making up for
it with cold revenge with haphazard patterns, abstract words,
and navigation through uncharted waters where i've drowned
not only everybody else, but myself, in this complete denial

- 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

insomnia is my best friend, it's molded into my bones because
the world never sleeps and the bats know me by name. i ripped
the lights out of the sky with the sharp teeth i bear to collect the
stars to stick onto my bedroom ceiling. the sky is a black hole, almost
like a tornado or mouth ready to throw me off my feet, and i'm faint
i can't tell the difference between sympathy, empathy, and apathy
anymore only because i was never good at recognizing faces covered
in masquerade masks. my nightmares aren't about dinosaurs and
aliens anymore, because fantasy is what i've become accustomed to.
reality terrifies me, we are living in our past, our present, and our
future, and my social anxiety is getting bad again to the point where
i lost track of time at night overthinking too much over simple things

- 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

in visuals,
your eyes
like green seraphinite
your smile
like the white gates to heaven
your arms
a plastered ivory with constellations of red freckles

my hands
covered in third degree burns
from the last time i was touched
my mouth
saying the wrong things
at the wrong times
my eyes
they're exhausted but
they are always looking
at you.

you are a motion picture &
i never want the story to
come to an end.

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

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

- 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

the first law of thermodynamics speaks: energy cannot be created nor destroyed
hypothetically, there must be some type of energy created between two people
though this winter has lasted a few years, natural vagabonds are asunder, seeking warmth
for years, we were condemned to search for that other half of us to keep us alive
we want someone who will grab our shoulders at the edge of a steep cliff
we want someone who will appreciate the small things, like drinking tea together
if our atoms bisect and travel alone someday, i want to know i felt that fear of love
that loss is the kindest of suicides, it empties the entrails which scatters through the walls
and the ribcage grows a garden of dead plants and a unlimited drought occurs
god knows when the clock will stop ticking in my chest and my soul goes west

-kra

you are so delicate, like feather pillows and angel wings
yet you offered me the knife to cut you off from me, and
autumn happens in each season where leaves fall like
pinned up pictures on your wall tumbles to the dusty
corners of the bed or hides in the closets like skeletons
and happiness is hard to find, but it's so much easier
finding new ways to miss you when remainders of
reminders are hidden in the nooks and crannies of
my endless jumble of miswired thoughts, and the
inside of your soul is just a house of mirrors for every
personality you perfect on your face with such ease
i wish the mirrors would shatter, and i would throw
the knives at all of them already and see the truth

- 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

9.27.13: like lightning, i am stricken by fear of
the unknown. i remember feeling my legs burn
from running so hard away from you. i expected
you to walk into my arms and tell me how you
are so excited to finally meet me. it didn't happen.
12.21.13: the smell of you inflamed my blood, and
i smelled your skin days afterward. i remember how
stunned i was when i finally seen you face to face.
did you notice how nervewrecking and surreal it was
or did you just want an excuse to throw me aside?
2.21.14: the adrenaline numbed out the pain i got
from falling into the cactus and gravel, and i wish
i didn't run from you that day. maybe everything
could've been different. after punishing myself
by clawing at my skin until my legs were red, i
felt that same adrenaline inside of myself.
3.14.14: that day alone was the first day i recieved
solace, but i noticed i never got it in full. i decided
to build up walls while anxiety helped block out
the part of me that still remotely cares about you.
i can't even trust anybody anymore. that's sad.
3.18.14: my boyfriend told me you asked about
me when i left without telling anybody about
it. you heard right, i puked and cried over porcelain
because i felt so uninvited. you didn't look my way
once. you saw me as another cactus, another tree,
another tumbleweed. i know you didn't want me
there, you wanted to be with my boyfriend.
3.19.14: my boyfriend told me to talk to you, that
you've changed now, but i haven't had you fight
for me yet. you bothered him for days about being
friends again. how should i know you want to be
friends with me again? maybe i want you to fight
for me first until i succumb back to you again. my
anxiety won't even let myself get near you again.
you fought for my boyfriend even when he ignored
you, and i know that's not something you'd do for
me. i want that ******* solace from you already.
3.22.14: i don't even want to see you this time around
until i receive closure and answers to know how you
really see me. i am tired of fighting for you and getting
nothing back. i am done fighting for something that
doesn't even want my friendship. i will always have
a piece of you in my heart. i'm so sorry for everything.
3.29.14: i can't tell if i'm the accomplice of the crime or
the victim anymore. i seen this coming from a mile away.
i wish you would see the imperfections in people.
4.20.14: GET OUT OF MY LIFE. GET OUT OF MY LIFE.
YOU HAVE ALREADY TURNED ME INTO A MONSTER.
IT WILL NEVER GET BETTER, *******. YOU COMPLETELY
TORE THE VITAL COMPONENTS OUT OF ME. *******.
6.8.14: between you and me, i promised everyone a lie, that i
would stop running towards you and start running away.
seems like you were too afraid to raise your voice to us.
WE CANNOT IGNORE THE PAST FIVE YEARS.
7.17.14: today, you added me. i'm not sure if it was out
of respect or out of spite. you deliberately plan on bothering
me when my heart is in it's weakest state. i'm just hoping the
third time's the charm or the three strikes will rid of you forever.
7.21.14: my body is trembling underneath the weight of fear but
something is telling me it's going to be okay. i can't accept it.
you spoke to me for the first time after a few months. i missed
your voice and the way it said my name so casually when my
voice trembles when i speak about you.
7.22.14: i'm not sure if i can do this anymore. i don't know how
you feel about me and you claim it's okay but it isn't. i cannot
help you anymore. i'm not able to be there for you anymore.
this pain of not being able to help you is completely unbearable.
9.14.14: it's been around two months since i last really thought
about you. if i have, it's been unconscious slivers, unconscious
mentions, unconscious dreams. this time, they faded out.
this time, it got easier to cope without you. this time,
this is the ending of that painful chapter.
10.5.14: maybe if we met under a different
circumstance, i wouldn't be asking your
friends for advice since i can't follow my own
i miss you and i always will most likely
11.7.14: these legs they tremble when you
open your arms and let me in like an old
friend this body is not used to you yet
11.10.14: "you know who my best friend
is?" i said in a joking manner. as easily
as i said that, i heard you say, "me."
my body stopped in time, it warped back
to the times we were happy, where we
were best friends telling each other secrets
and keeping each other in our good dreams
and preventing from being in each other's
bad dreams. as much as i'd like to admit
that there is something there, i couldn't
lie to myself about what we are. there was
nothing i could do to take back the no that
spilled from my mouth and *******, it
hurts sometimes having a back burner
stance, being a mere shadow to you feels
like i'm kissing my fear goodnight
11.16.14: i told you to put your sheath
down, that this heart-to-heart wasn't
going to **** us, but it was to create
us. words of poetry spilled from my
lips and my eyes and you cleaned
it up. imagine that a few months
ago. i destroyed the dragon, and
may have saved the maiden for good.
11.27.14: giving up on you became an
option but now it's not. you are now a
password i can't decrypt. you are a birth
mark that i want to scrape off but can't.
it's like i already know that feeling is
back of doubt and i fear if you end up
confessing he will still want you around.
i will have to put up with it even on my
worst days and let's hope i can do it.
11.28.14: i haven't pulled an all nighter
in awhile but my god when you snore
softly beside me, i am suffocated with
sadness. my engine is running on low
but it is struggling to stay strong.
1.6.15: i am the epitome of a pause screen
or a riverbed that dried up. letting you
consume me was the silliest idea i could
muster after all of this waiting on the side
of the road, hoping you would give me gas.
1.7.15: i hope to leave you back in 2014 where
you belong, because there is no room in this
chest for you. i can be happy without you.
don't you dare get close to me again.
2.2.15: today is your birthday.....happy birthday
since saying it on your wall is improper for how
we are right now. it reminds me of old times,
when you wished me a happy birthday and
two days later, dropped me from existence.
4.26.15: isn't it funny how today, of all days, my
******* birthday, i end up finding out the truth
behind why you isolated nathan. IT'S PRETTY
******* FUNNY HEARING I'M ANNOYING
FROM YOU, YOU ******* *****. GO DIE.
and i hope you succumb to the scars i left on you.
6.5.15: FINALLY. YOU SEE EXACTLY HOW I FEEL.
I HOPE YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE,
BECAUSE AS A PEACEKEEPER, YOU COULDN'T
EVEN KEEP THE PEACE BETWEEN US. HOW SAD.
12.5.15: 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, is my world falling apart.
6.27.16: six months pass, and my mind is set on a girl
but it's not you anymore. this was my rare blue moon
event in my life, and you didn't even give me three percent
of the full security which what she has given me.

- 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

meeting you was like brushing shoulders with
god – once i turned around to catch a glimpse
of you, i realized it would take a requested but
granted miracle for us to intersect. they say in
euclid geometry that two parallel lines will
never touch despite the fact that they lie on the
same plane going in the same direction. as long
as that plane kept us interconnected, i thought it
would be okay to let you speak words of
resurrection to me. as long as the roses inside my
chest continue to blossom and as long as you
continue to help pluck off all the overgrowth of
thorns, i thought it would be okay to let you see
me for the beast that lies under my beauty. it feels
like i’m getting closer to the truth, but further
from the one that i’ve been looking for. the big
picture looks a lot like manifest destiny collided
with continental drift.

there is something called the bermuda triangle.
this is not to be mistaken as a metaphor for an
unrequited love triangle. a significant number
of aircraft and ships have mysteriously vanished
from thin air, so they have made a name specifically
for the catastrophic triangular death sentence
phenomenon that lies out in the north atlantic
ocean. i think of myself as the one aircraft that
plummeted into the waters early. despite how
long i’ve been flying this aircraft, it’s the turbulence
that puts me at risk for something like this. i didn’t
know being one of many parallel lines would have
a death sentence. mother nature is laughing at me
as i sink, because i’ve forgotten how to swim.

i’ve become a part of the empty space on the plane
filling in that void until you eventually collided
with a perpendicular line changing your direction.
parallel lines don’t get the satisfaction of ever
crossing into each other. they are always at arms
distance. close enough to touch, but not close enough
to feel the ghost of their breath on our cheeks. we’ve
acknowledged that the other exists, but not the fact
that we could divert from our paths towards each
other. loving you was a learning experience. it was
learning that i shouldn't swim into deep waters, but
i shouldn't stand in a three foot pool. this is why i want
to know if there is such a thing as non-euclidian
geometry, if there is hope for us parallel lines that
will never collide with our soulmates.

- kra

our favorite game starts with the introduction
of an hurricane. usually storms are depicted in
dreams as sinewy turbulence swelling up, a rough
beginning, and the ending result of the story is
where something is lost. the storm takes something.
mother nature will not give mercy to the kindest
of us humans.

the safety point is a lighthouse, that promise
of light at the end of the tunnel. i have always
stuck to the shadows instead of reaching out
towards the light, stuck with the desire and
fear of change, but you shot out like a startled
deer. you – of all people – bring color to the
chiaroscuro painted world. i – of all people –
stir up storms in people and seem to leave
behind only wreckage and skeletons. there
is a light shining through you which careens
through my skin instead of ricocheting off
of me.

our wavelengths mimic each other some days,
but i have a storm roaring through my skin that
i’m afraid to let anyone get a glimpse at. if
my exoskeleton ever was torn down by anyone,
the storm would remember to bury me in the
remaining rubble and shrapnel left behind.

mother nature will not scare me anymore,
and i will start at ground zero and build
myself upwards towards cloud nine and
beyond. something is lost, but there is
always something gained from loss.

- kra

art is bisected into three categories
and other subcategories
painting & drawing
poetry & literature
music & dancing
i happened to become an
martyr to poetry, logolept
and framed masterpieces
not written down on paper
kept inside of wires attached
to my brain, smoldering my
grey matter and my feelings
melting like candles, slowly
but urgently sweating out
unspoken power and ungodly
overwhelming thoughts need
to be shared, but only show
your passion to someone
worth writing about who
is just as complex as you are

- kra

cherry blossom trees crowded the ladder of my ribs
and the toothpicks that held my chest so gently was
eradicated and fell apart like a house of cards blown
by the sharpness of the wind and i found myself
                                                                                     looking back at myself into the small looking glass
                                                                                     where i found a peace of mind in a strange world
                                                                                     where time does not define you, imagination does
                                                                                     and maybe that's where i belong, human purpose
is so fickle, we are restricted inside this demented
dimension where our mortality is all we know,
where we find ourselves being the pawn in a sea
of kings and queen, where our nightmares consist
                                                                                       of reality, in the mirror, we see an ugly duckling
                                                                                       when we really are swans, basking in the warm
                                                                                       sunlight, where the gears in our heart turn with
                                                                                       out pause, happiness is everlasting in fantasy

- 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

1.  you are not shrapnel from a car crash. you are not
   your own destruction. you will be born again.
   2. this is an endless labyrinth of running into walls
    and thinking i know the way, when i have no clue
    what i'm getting into and where i am going.
    3. don't compare me to a meteor - slowly drifting
    away from everything you have ever known about
   me - because i am the same person. you changed.
   4. if your mirror is showing you a monster, you
   need to find any way to break that mirror.
   5. i never understood nirvana until you came into my life,
    yet i've never understood hell's scorch until you
    blatantly left without a proper goodbye.
    6. i will unleash the worst types of hell onto you.
    7. the only difference between fractals and the way
    you treat people is that you are no snowflake.
    8. if you were a mailbox, i would take out all of the
    flowers and constant reminders that i love you.
    9. i'm having problems eating. it's a constant reminder
    of how you told me about your favorite cereal is now a
    cereal i don't have the stomach to bring to my mouth.
   10. don't get yourself tangled in knots you cannot undo
    because you will be stuck trying to untie the knots by
    yourself.

    - kra

you seem like one tiny drop of rain when, in all honesty, you are the rain cloud
you carry all this unneeded weight that adds up and develops slowly over time
from white to a light gray, coloring the sky into monochrome shades of black
some of us come down in rain drops in pieces, like a shattered frame on the sidewalk
maybe some of us go through cycles, we feel like we're infinite and we feel useless
some of those cycles vary from person to person, and it's odd thinking about it
some clouds will be blacker than others, some will be lighter by nature
clouds will dissipate, sometimes because they want to, sometimes not
we all want to be bigger than a raindrop, but life's hand me downs gets worn
you realize every rain drop is temporary; it will dissipate without a warning
we don't want to be excused, but eventually, we will be the ocean of forgotten souls

-kra

these endless string of days where i feel the bee hive
inside my head tremble and break open are like torture
but there was recently the bees let me see how clear it
is without the constant buzzing sounds and swarming
around my head like a severe migraine. that one day was
the calm before the storm; it was solace i needed but didn't
receive in full. it's true, maybe i didn't deserve that solace,
but i haven't experienced hangovers until the aftermath threw
me out of the road and into the thorny bushels which are
now what i sleep in each night. i've learned to focus on
my steady breathing patterns and counting all the way
up to one thousand and all the way back to zero.  it helps
distract myself when the weights on my chest gets heavy.

- 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

you flirt with winter's sharp edges instead
of the warmth of summer's blurry eyes.
2. the only thing to fear is fear itself.
3. i heard sharks could be cannibals just to
obtain food, and if they have the stomach
to swallow their infants, i have the stomach
to swallow these memories of you i miss.
4. the fish watch the birds fly out west, and
have a strong desire to ask the passengers
for a ride to leave their ostracized ocean prison.
5. neverland gave me the wrong directions.
6. the only way i can visit the stars anymore is
if i follow the sound of your voice. you make me
see ******* constellations, solar systems, something
so much more than life itself, something beautiful
that cannot be contained.
7. (of course stars die, don't you think i know that?)
8. how can i fix things that my hands don't even
need to touch to shatter? the truth is, architecture
was never something i was good at.
9. i can barely taste the salt water, but i'm a few
accidental swallows away from drowning myself
into my fear. my lungs built a pocket for fear to
live in without the buildup of water drowning me.
10. dying a ****** means i am still pure somehow, right?

- kra

time builds shutters over the windows of my home
where my neighbors began to form theories of what
happened to that lost girl: “she either has a lot of
skeletons in her closet, or she let herself become one.”

birds can sense the halt of the world,
and the impending destruction. they
began to flock in large hordes as a
whirlwind of catastrophic proportion
made the wood groan and the glass
shatter underneath my hands. my
body looked like i was leaking out
the inside of a fleshy pomegranate
instead of my usual hollow words.
the sky cracked open, revealing the
devil and god having their own war.
was i so narcissistic to believe i could
be like Calypso and detain Odysseus
who already had Penelope?

these damages to my home are meticulously
concealed, as the doctors wire my jaw shut
and sew my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
the autumn sunrise becomes the entrancing
aftermath of a violent storm. the usual gray is
replaces with vibrant hues of glossy orange and
yellow. i am careful not to let my guard down.
autumn looks like a masked intruder who i
would drag into my house, ask them to take
everything i own, and not beg for anything back.
there’s no one quite like autumn.

i would let the seaweed wrap itself around
my ankles at the bottom of the ocean before
i would offer myself the chance to breathe.
however, my lungs begin to get tired.

i have already committed the greatest sin possible,
and i haven’t even grazed the outer skin of it.

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

send a search party to find
reasoning for my existence.

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

what if the pen was the scalpel, ripping our chest open with flowers sprouting out haphazardly
what if we had the sun running through our veins, and night time made us temporarily unconscious
our bodies react as the paper, you let a stranger take a pen to you trusting them not to shred the floral
when one of the magnolias, gardenias, or chrysanthemums are cut, the rest all fall like dominoes
and the sunlight scatters like mice into new hosts as you spiral downward into unconsciousness
the secret of how i flourished through drought was my optimism and faith in others who failed me
the science of how i got through these psychological traumatic experiences were questionable
the seconds i've spent thinking about it have been seconds wasted forgetting about my future
i don't trust the time, i'm always caught observing the clock making sure that it ticks
maybe i don't believe in it's mechanics, it's acute accuracy, or it's clockwise spin
it's the numbers i don't trust, i'm certain of it, we're all made of numbers
we're all seconds, hours, days, months, and years counting down

- kra

Odysseus was washed ashore on this island like a
beached whale, homesick and yearning for hands
that my hands could not fit. he coughs reaching out
for a savior, and water drains from his lungs like he
kept the whole sea – undiscovered - inside him.
sometimes, i have
dreams about drowning.
sometimes, i end up suffocating because
i know Odysseus is not mine to drown in.

“Promise me that this crime of passion doesn’t
find it’s way to Penelope,” I beg for mercy.

“Home is where the heart is – “ Odysseus stubbornly
reminds me, “—But my home does not look like Ogygia.”

It’s always a fever: hungry, insatiable, shameless passion.
when the lion is fed his meat and he cleans the bones,
it is time to move on. the lion can distinguish the elephant
in the room, and swallow the prey until one of us feels
absent and you end up full. what is beyond the veil might
leave us homesick. i take a swallow, and pour the rest
down the drain.

14 days before -

they say one day, you will have to face your
fears otherwise they may become triggers.
there will be places you won't want to visit
because you will end up looking the thing
you fear in the eyes. to get over fears don't
happen overnight, yet placing myself in
positivity is something i fear the most.

13 days before -

perhaps the mountains are getting taller, but this
city is turning into nothing more than a prison.
this city is starting to lose it's vivid orange hues,
and it's evaporating into the sky into a dark gray
cloud of fury and resentment. this wanderlust is
not healthy for me, considering i lose interest in
everything. getting scorched by the heat like this
is becoming something like torture.

12 days before -

regret is remembering something with
the aftertaste feeling of loss and sorrow.
jesus christ, trying to get to know you was
like studying for a test of an entirely
different subject than the material i'm
learning now. even being left with the
aftertaste of something sour, it was the
closest to the truth i've ever discovered.

11 days before -

on my 21st birthday, i found out about your true
wolf-like persona, of those piano-like fingers
being sharp claws that always had me in a choke
hold, and i let you sniff out my vulnerability
without questions or concerns. now why did
i not leave for the paper towns in the first place
when my gut was screaming about bad news?

10 days before -

rain, rain, can you please go away because you
are making me worry about the silliest things
like how i called myself rain on a hydrophobic
world. brain, brain, stop thinking right now
about the silliest things, you have no need
to stoop to this level of sheer anxiety.

9 days before -

i will not be a prisoner-of-war, allowing you to
torture me with sweet lullabies of safe comfort
words, anymore. i would rather you pull the
trigger, since you were a step too late to fix
the fact that you became my trigger. i'm my
own harriet tubman, finding paths to get out
of this slave-like existance you call friendship.


8 days before -

i am determined to make something of myself
because being pliable and rubber-like just made
me deformed to you since your hands weren't
exactly careful with me in the first place. i am
determined to wash myself clean of these sins,
rid myself of the detritus, and make the sun shine
right out of the very *** i wished you kissed.

7 days before -

i will continue to grieve of the afternoon that
we poked fun at mormons because i've realized
you stooped me down to their level unconsciously.
i'll be blunt, this distance between us is only growing
wider and wider and i hope whatever was between
us will end up tearing in half when i'm unreachable.

6 days before -

when everyone sees you explode into a flurry
of fireworks, the way i will see you is as the
father of all bombs, where you will evaporate
everything i've ever been familiar with right
from my very eyes. to think i gave myself
third degree burns to give life to dead things.

5 days before -

The words I couldn't vocalize
The thoughts I couldn't accept
The memories are piercing and heavy
They're becoming stiff, and like lead

4 days before -

i heard the water company nestle is using the
reservoirs of california to make bottled water,
leaving california in it's worst drought in years
and i think of how you used me just to get to
him and how i chased you down state lines
and how i ran for the hills once you left me
in the worst drought i've had in years.

3 days before -

to survive, you must become selfishly inclined.
nobody will warn you of the dog eat dog world
as a child, so you have to run on the course
natural selecton provides you. mother nature
is a real ******* in the way she disguised her
colors as fall, when she is always artic winter.

2 days before -

run from the predators. don't let yourself
be swallowed by the building doubt in your
tummy. although you are small, your existance
is wider than you think it is. you can expand
yourself wide enough so you are not the victim
of mother nature's cruel & unusual punishment.

1 day before -

i have loved and lost, but never once forgot the
places i once fell in love with, with the rolling hills
and valleys and the thunderous roar of billowing
dust storms. the planes are at seven and the trains
at eleven, and i nearly forgot about how i used to
live in the quiet fortress of my forgettable town.


0 days before -**

i want to ask the passengers on this plane
what they're leaving for. maybe vacation,
an adventure i'll never know of, or perhaps
they're running from the truth of the matter.
texas seems like it's going to welcome me with
warmer arms than arizona has done in months.

you draw your self hatred out like a kid draws out small pictures
and play double dutch with the hands on a clock, knowing how
unsafe it is out there, flirting with death and flicking me off when
i wrote out the reasons why you should stay, that this autumn fallout
is only a misconstruction of your mind's witching hour, that dystopia
won't linger and utopia will be home soon, it will blossom into your lungs
and turn the simplicity of your broken soul into something completely
quintessential and complex, like an origami rabbit, i fold my sharp edges
and twist myself to be malleable and secure for you, maybe i'm not too certain
of myself or you, but i'm not too certain on a lot of subjects, i'm worried
of being thrown into the arsonist world you started, covering up the sky with
black dense fog, the type of fog that would happen only in dangerous wildfires
i'm a controlled wildfire, but i let my fire spread just to help control your fire

- 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