I open my lungs to the moist dirt between
sidewalk cracks.

Atoms severed  from the whole transcend
previous existence, take flight and enter my

body evaporating through tunnels, sinus
storm-drains built beneath my bones.

Particles intertwine themselves around
rooted hair shafts, excite neurons

electrical synapses, the sinew of sense
and memory ingraining fleshy shores of

my brain with cartography not yet understood.

So I too one day amputate this existence, navigate
to the peel covering concrete entombed earth

becoming dust, mud levees holding back waters
swollen by the pull of moon, slow earth thrown

to the casket. The comital of broken deadfall
in winter buried in un-named forests turned

black earth, turned home to black shelled
scarabs, turned nest.

Let the earth do this turning lament for me
let me be food for hungry worm mouths

the secret held between the hands of mice
warm within their family den, to the beak of young

howls turned night hunters, let me feed their
wingspan, nourishing fascia, the miracle

consensus between hard muscle fiber and
soft feather wherein miracle of flight is born.

Let the earth kneed me into nucleus seed
from where its hands are born,

forms sinuses from hollowed trunks and
lines its bones with me

It was born small,
A drop of water in a tub of oil,
But the inevitable happened:
It grew,
It engulfed me,
Like an infinite sclera.

A distorted mirror,
Some part of me
Knew it was false,
But the tendrils of transformation
Restrained me, It hurt,
But it was also pure ecstasy.

Now I cannot reject its pleasure,
I now know who I am,
The tendrils guided me,
At a small cost of ignorant bliss,
I now know who I am,
I am Chelsea Krona.

The words spoken were short and few,

But the wounds they formed cut deeper then you knew.
The residue left started to fester and rot.
And the butterflies in my stomach transformed into knots.
They say it’s alright,
I say it’s okay.
I wonder for once what I did anyway.

To provoke such,
Words
to form into knives.
They penetrate my skin,
but I will still strive.
In the dark of the moment I’ll make art from my pain,
Even if my confidence may never be the same.
I’ll come back STRONGER.
I’ll come back BOLD.

Willing to tell the story that needs to be told.
Yes, the cuts were deep,
But skin grows back thick.
I’ll never forget the words that clung to me.
They stick.

My life was well
Gifts flowed freely
There were ups and downs
But things were easy

Work was good
Though sometimes taxing
Took most of my time
From morn till evening

Yet I went through it
Day in and day out
Resigned to the humdrum
Of everyday life

Exhausted and spent
At the end of the day
Comforted by the pay
That I gained

And then you came
Without a warning
A surprise, unpleasant
Plunged in, not knocking

I said, “How could you come
At this perfect time
When career’s at the peak
Now it’s at stake.”

You vanquished everyone
And everything
A big monster you seemed
Meant to destroy my dreams


Then I chose to face you
With courage and faith
With one I needed action
With the other I found strength

With open arms
of total surrender
I was lead and I obeyed
Then things and events
Slowly fell into place

With this new vision
Now I see clearly
Things happen for me
Never against me.

Now I am healed
Now I am free
Surrender to win
That’s how it should be.

I finally crawled out of my self
And promptly built another shell
Crafted it with empty bottles
And half smoked cigarettes
Glued it all together
With a sticky, love mess

Living heavy by the light of the moon
Dying to escape the bright of the sun
All of these slippin days
They make for wicked ways

Falling asleep as the sun came up
Dreaming about my morning cup
Preparing for another day
Of thinking my whole life away

Sickened by the shadows I've cast
Tryin' anything, everything
To escape my past
Cracking the shell, bit by bit
I think, I think I'll get the hang of it

Living heavy by the light of the moon
Dying to escape
the bright of the sun
All of these slippin days
They make for wicked ways


Won't you help me through this phase?

I'm dragging
all I know how to write is sadness,
and I want to let you know that isn't all I've got
I want so hard to prove that what you see isn't all you get
that the mess that I am has a sheen underneath.
Your voice breathes life into me,
I want to take you with me to the end of my journey,
but to claim to own a spirit as wild and free as yours
would be to clip a rose, to give it thorns.
When my heart is on fire and I follow the smoke signals
it only ever serves to lead me back to you.
And we're both stepping stones,
but I hope that I can run with you as long as we've got time,
I want to fight beside you as long as there's a war to be won,
to pen your story for the world,
to grasp in these clumsy fingers the will o' wisp that guides me,
time and time again back to your eyes.
The echoes of the universe draw me close to you,
I'm hopeless, and I've ever been.
I feel the distance as cuts in my heart
Your touch magnetizes my soul
how I ever went without you, I'll never know.
So curse me with all you've got,
strike me down for generations,
so I'll be by your side through time,
and I can live to give you everything.
Bit by bit, lifetime by lifetime,
I will always find you, again and again
and we will dance,
and I will learn to write joy, year after year
now that I'm flying.