Nothing makes a difference now;
  The Dawn is broken
  The birds are chipping
  The light is brighten
  The babes are laughing
Kra-****-ka-ka-ka

I still sob and whimper
I still stagger to refuge
My heart breaks into smithereens even now more than that night.
My eyes filled and swollen like the ocean breezing down like dew.
Distressed and re-pressed
Scrambling out of confusion
Overwhelmed by emotions
The lightening comes cracking
I feel my heart jumping
Kra-****-ka-ka-ka

It's settled now.
I mean the verdict has been served.
Finally there is a resolution.
A number of us will carry the shame,
Life will sometimes flash the fame,
Nothing will ever remain the same,
Cuz players don't change the rules of the game,
We are here today, we accept the pain.
But the power that made it so won't take the blame.
Kra-****-ka-ka-ka

The sound of violence
The sound of hatred
The sound of struggle
The sound of terror
The sound of blood
The sound of tears
The sound of loss
The sound of Us
The sound of defeat
Kra-****-ka-ka-ka

Please we have a story
Not to win a glory
Or to take a sorry
But we must tell our history.
That one night when all fade away
That one night when all stayed awake
That one night when all tried to race
That one night that changed the pace
There was nothing to stake again, all was taken away
Oh! I promise to stop the reminiscing
Not again will I recount the moment.
But the sound forever remain in the subconscious
Kra-****-ka-ka-ka
Oh! I hate that sound!!!

if, somehow, you could see how high & dense your fortified groves has gotten
you wouldn't be asking me why i'm trying to get to you like a giraffe gets to the
leaves in the trees, because your barrier is like barb wire tangled around your
wrists and, almost like a failed lobotomy, you're as mad as a hatter, and the
ribbons that tied us together tightly unwoven it's knot, and i'm so careful in
finding the pieces of worn bricks to tear down and not break you in the process
the fear left me restless, without a doubt, you get helpless after a while and
start believing that sandpaper and silk are similar, but they aren't textured the
same in reality, yet who even really knows what is wrong and what is right?
maybe the puzzle pieces get worn over time and they're not even considered
to be pieces to a puzzle anymore, it's like putting together a falling apart pie

- 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

"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

as an astronaut, I spun on a rotary around the core of your existence like
you were the gravity that held me to the ground but kept me on my toes
if home is where the heart is, i'm coping with this unbearable homesickness
and I know my heart has an anarchy government, living a steel toed rebellion
but these relentless thoughts about you have gotten bad again, i don't sleep
my reckless behavior let loose, like a dog off his chain and collar and i
revisited the places you always talked about, how i dreamed to be there
with you recovering those lost feelings, and rebellion was assisting me
in the mind of my teenage angst, no autobiographies could be more
authentic than the hatred for this unrequited swelling i held in my heart
without a doubt, you're featured in my dreams more than nightmares
you couldn't be more real than the books that I hold in my hands
i'm sleeping in water filled with sharks calling me a tedious terrorist
entering their territory, leaving me with absolutely nothing
just build a bridge, get over it, if you have to, revisit my mind
maybe you'll see everyone is the enemy, not everyone is perfect

-kra

też masz mi do powiedzenia, jak niby włókło włókna szarosci sierści psa, dało skóre tą samą, godną, na ubiór człowieka! o tyle, tylko czy ten pies nie igra w psie zasady i maniery łyskotek ogona, a raczej: z krókiem w krok swego pana, na ilość kra kra ha ha! KRA! HA! bo sie barbarossa obudzi!*

potwory na wyspach!
każdy murzyn to wie!
tu nie ma społeczeństwa,
tu nie ma nawet dialogu,
kiedy mensch kochąjacy
mensch jest w nad grobie
ozora zakryty
szambem, i chwyta brzytwy
bo tonie nad dwóch tą krytyką!
i tu ten upiór rady i wolności,
niby, nagle opartym królem
na tronie sracza,
o! królestwo zwanem szambo!
na typ repliki króla jana!
jedna dziwa ulic uciekła bo powiedziałem
rym henryka żon wedle idolizacji karola,
pierwszy z czołem ścięty, drugi nie,
a co trzeci? a tu nagle w gazele!
*** raj car cajs, w ten rytmiczny bieg!
hola hoop! *** tsar cajs! ona w bieg!
no, pięć minut wykorzystane
dla brygady oxfam.

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

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

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

Pyaar to kai trha k hote h
Mgr na jaane hmara ye ksa pyaar h
Pyaar k to kai naamo ko ME btadu
Magar smjh NH aata ki hmare is pyaar ko ME kya naam du
Jo kbhi hsata h  to kbhi rulata h
Kabhi naraj krta h to kbhi mnata h
Or jb shk krta h to uske agle hi Pal khud se jyada ykin krne lgta h
Agr khuda b aa kr hmare is pyaar ko byaan krne ki koshish kre  to shyd vo b nakamyab **
Kuki hmara pyaar vo nhi jo lfzo ME byaan **
Pta h mera dil bht ziddi h..  Hmesha ek hi zid krta h
Khta h ki vo tumse milna chahta h.
Tumhare kareeb hone ka ahsas mhsus krna chahta h
tumhari baaho ME jo sukoon milta h vo sukoon mhsus krna chahta h
Tmhari aakho ME aakhe daal k tumse bt krna chahta h
Tumhara haath thamna chahta h
Lekin me usko daat k chup kra deti hn
Mgr kya kru yr apne aasu rok NH paati hn
** ske to Mj cchor k kbhi mt jana
Kuki agr tum mj cchor k chle gye to me apni rooh ko NH smjha paungi ki ab b  **** ME ruk jana
Agr Tmko mjse door jaana b pde to khud ko kbhi akela mt smjhna
Me US lmha tmhare aas paas hi hongi mj mhsus kr k dkhna
Hr Pal dr lgta h tmhe kho dene se
Mgr phr khudko smjhati hn ki is janam nhi to kya hua, agle janam kon rok skta h tmhe mera ** dene Se
Me nh janti ki hmara saath kb tk h
Mgr itna jaanti hn ki hmari rooh ek tb tk h suraj chand jb tk h..

in my dreams, I found your voice whispering my name
it was so quiet, just like you, throwing your secrets in the grave
silent euphoria covering the tension in my muscles and veins
releasing the strenuous stress, but my blood still runs white
white sunlight running through me and my thoughts run to you
it's like an natural instinct, a second skin, a cause to the effect
you peer into my windows and the realization why was a slap in the face
ironic because I fell into the same guilty pleasure that you did
your spring and summer lasted me a few years, but winter came
love hibernated back into it's cave, built it's castle and lava moat
haphazardly scattered ghost starve in the back of an abandoned alley
looking for a map out of this godforsaken eath but they can't leave
not without a sign pointing them in the right direction, but i always turn left
it's like we were related by blood, but our blood learned to squander
my fingertips shake violently, do you realize how badly i need you
anxiety was taking every inch of my body and collapsing my lungs
i'm searching for a needle in a haystack and it's been found already
i'm looking for a key to the locked door but my hands are empty
i'm peering through an opening to find any source of hope for us
and i come up empty every single time.

-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

like... flappy flappy pigeon imitate penguin go shoeshine your ***? like that? i don't even know whether pigeons find penguins to be more pathetic, or whether penguins find pigeons more pathetic... so one has the sky, the other the ocean... it's hardly an argument for either to be staged with a mediator; let alone a matador.

pokraka... (singular),
pokraki* (plural)...
             don't know, i'm not exactly
baby-faced pristine...
         but i don't even know where
that word comes from,
perhaps the riddle of the crow and
the writing desk... why is it that
the crow is writing desk?
          the crow stoops on earth hunched?
almost hunchback?
       maybe that?
     don't know, these fellas are doing
my slating (roof) and i'm autistic imitating
cat tactics of hidig, because i like the drunk
that i am to be hidden, and only seen
in between walls that can hear...
   or apparently but not really so...
    metaphysical question...
why is it that when you encode scratched compact
discs into mp3 form on an iPod
the product breaks? too much l.s.d.?
                 i swear to god, but you trasnslaste
a compact disk into software (it is hardware,
however you think about it; with no alternatives)
         it can **** up the hardware...
                 you have a scratched c.d.,
you translate it into a software package to your
computer, then your translate the "malware",
o.k. a scratched c.d. is literally malware,
                 on the topic of iPods...
                you can **** up your iPod if you include
scratched c.d. material... like itchy-itchy vinyl guys
doing hip-hop...
        but i have this sansa mp3 player,
and i have scratched c.d. on it, and it keeps working...
but the iPod i once owned? broken...
or should i say "broken"?
     no, literally broken...
          i picture prefect a cat's face and then
disappear when the builders arrive...
most of the time i'm a person that doesn't require
the chance exposure of my own face...
    here's to looking at brick walls, and clouds,
and drainage depots on the pave...
      to be writing poetry will eventually drive
your sorry *** into the ground and tell you:
why couldn't you become a crane-driver?
          as a fraction of a billion exemplum similis?
i don't know;
               why did you get plastic surgery?
i know... similis exemplar... that's a variant on the whole
topic.
                 why marvin gaye and the creedence clearwater
revival cover?
           i apparently don't know any latin,
and i find that stating this fact: i'm no big fan of
some grammar school rubric of "correct": toward
the status of ontologically proof riddled,
   correct.
                      *****'s here, coca is here,
sunshine (ugh) is here...
                            what else could you want?
only the etymological disinterest of the word pokraka,
derivative? krók (crow)...
         given the prefix po- (after) -
            well... imitating crow, or after the crow...
                           unto the priest... after all: crows are
symbolic of the priestly-caste in europe...
      also the opposite of onomatopoeic strain toward exactnes:
kra kra... what the crow breathes...
hardly a kraken, but almost... thus po- + -krók:
     i.e. after the crow... inherently so.

the quietest words are the loudest
      knowledge and open eyes to the real world
                           through prose i speak and speak alone
                                           nobody encouraged me to be outspoken
                                                       ­   i was a shut-in, trapped for months
                                                          ­   like anne frank, with only power in writing
                                                         ­            i found power in words, nobody taught me
                                                                ­                   how to live, but i learned how to exist in
                                                              ­                 a world lost in it's sin, a mediocre society
                                                         ­                lost in it's power of indulgences and faith
                                                           ­        with paper and pen, i can capture honesty
                                                    the most brutal tragedy, the most beautiful love
                                      i've never felt intense fear, like hanging off a cliff fear
                               but i've been pushed to that cliff one too many times
                     i've always been scared of heights and losing someone
               but my fears are all in my head, my heart is power
         my heart is courage, my heart is love
it is the first and last thing i have

- 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

i watched you eradicate the ruby roses from your
skin with razors, you told me they just needed to be set
free, they were just doves in a cage needing freedom.
2. i heard that hibernation lasts only during winter
but it's spring, doesn't the flowers learn to pick up
their spines to the sun and reach for the skies?
3. i'm not sure which part of my heart is revealed to
you, but it must be a revolting sight. my apologies.
4. my heart is 50% happy/ 50% sad like living at the
bottom of the world, where i get night time six months
a year and day time six months a year.
5. this web you've strung me in has me tangled in semi-
impossible knots but i would take all the time in the world
to detangle the vines from you and let you continue growing.
6. the weight of my heavy armory prevented me from swimming
in the sickening waters, so i screamed "forget me not" at you. i'm
not so sure you heard me or if you just ignored my screams.
7. your pianists fingers let me slip through your fingers slowly
like motor oil or pancake syrup, but i'm sure you washed off
the parts of me that stuck onto your fingers.
8. HERE IS YOUR ULTIMATUM: LEAVE OR STAY.
9. survival relies on the fittest, but i'm anything but fit
for helping you survive. let me bandage every scar, even
though you're not going to be the same person afterwards.
10. forever is an overused term, but i will never forget the
side of you that shined the brightest and made the sun jealous.

- kra

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

how you defined me is extinct in the wild.
i'm still not sure if you meant that i am the
last of my kind or if i was the only thing you
had left to swallow and with distaste you spit
me out like i was dish washing soap slathered
onto your tongue. even though you were right,
that i am all i will have left in the end, i still
never saw you look upon me like i was special
just because i am going extinct, one day at a time.

- 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

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

three words and eight letters fell in between the cracks
of your fingers like sand, not even realizing you were holding
my heart somewhere in there as it conjoined with the earth
my stem grew sixteen feet in all directions and grew sixteen feet
tall, with branches that holds photographs of memories i've
forgotten about already, like waters that don't cease with
waves that drag you under like hands at your ankles
but people don't drag you down, our past drags us down
the darkness isn't full of nightmares but it's not so clean either
we were not careful enough, i thought we couldn't sink in dangerous
water but the past dragged you down the depths and shallows of it's
cold grotto. i wish i had a sixth sense perception, become a wallflower,
a housefly, eyes watching from the very corners of their eyes, visible
enough to remind you, i exist. i am very real and i am finally starting
to shake off the waves and grime and shout through my words.

- 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

my mind is like firecrackers
explodes with thoughts
of you.

- kra

people's eyes are like constellations, wherever you go
they will be there during sunlight and sundown,
picking out flaws like they pick out food on menus
finding the crack in the liberty bell, finding Venus de
Milo’s lack of arms, like flowers, we wilt without
rain, and we are so ashamed of being imperfect,
but why do we run from the rain? can we not accept
reality and believe fantasy is a much more powerful
sense of comfort than believe in the bizarre judgement
the earth has provided for us, the most grandeur
hearts are the heavily scarred and bruised, because
what are we without our flaws? we aren't boring.

- kra

you hold me on wires by my spine like i'm a puppet and you're the puppeteer,
the wires dancing out of orbit as similar as power lines wrestling a storm or
electrons that are never at a certain point at any time. your misaccuracy
reminds me of a pinpoint on a map because it never touches the destination
on point, and i absorb the attention you provide like polymer gel ***** with
water, but you are the most unstable puppeteer i've ever known, smiling
through smoke and blindfolding me covering me in black and blue camoflauge
throwing me in the fire, drowning me in the deep depths of the ocean,
and laughing as i sink in denial and crave the inevitable let down

- kra

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i've given birth to a inhumane creature
breathing in mustard gas, breathing out fire
touching everything with hands like lightning
a wilted flower that surrendered to the deep cold
shredding hearts like paper with an unshakable anger
smelling fear in you, never letting myself get near you
delicate and proud, like a rose, you glisten and i rot
how can you fix something that's almost irreversible
how do you reverse a cycle that's been going for months
i'm blending into the wall of the past regrets you created
masses of failures you've been through and threw away
but i never left, i always kept my promise to you
i have to lay your face
                                       to rest
                                                  to rest
                                                           ­  to rest
                                                           ­             to rest
like a recording, playing over and over like it's taunting me
like a ghost that's been locked away, ready for the haunting
but i can't do it, dreams interrupt and ravage my troubled mind
desolate in my own mind, and i'm sleeping in this prison ward
harvest the love from my heart and unshackle my bones from this room
i've illuminated in my faith and rose above the fervent grudge i've held
detritus strikes at the dawn, and turns the moon into a cold glare
and i know i stare but you were the first beautiful thing i ever had
and i know you don't like me, but can't you stare back and see the beauty
i'm not the monster you believe i am

-kra

like morse code, you were a code of dots and lines nobody could ever understand
nobody could ever navigate your mountains, valleys, forests, roads, and oceans, even
with help with a map or compass, you're an incomplete equation that can't be added up
a static signal, an unknown error, a dark secret that flourishes under pressure perhaps
it's hidden in the background story, covered in a web of lies and coated with grime
filled to the brim in an air tight cylindrical container with your charming vices
white lies become obsidian walls, obsidian walls become a prison for you, a bird
unable to fly freely and scream it's sorrows to the sky blaming shattered ruins
and broken homes and unquestioned scars to whoever decided to create us
absolutely exhausted of unrequited answers, these questions give no solutions

- 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

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

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

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

- 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

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

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

- kra