Kristen Bonnette has lived a life of passion and intensity. Admiration, real-ness and beauty are of great importance to her. She has engaged in writing of creative intent for the bulk of her highschool years. She is now eighteen years old. She looks forward to the life ahead, and frequently exposes herself to thoughts adverse or different from her own.




"a distant cry: she breathes the fresh-ness of alive-ity"

but it pains the left-ish portion of a brain: the ferocious bite meant to
shred to pieces, in simplicity of ravage, the bitterness of betrayal. what
of this, a physical nonsense? the frayed edge of an old tug-of-war rope we
used in '93 searches for a victim and it burns: a firecracker's touch upon
the layer atop the rest -- the instinctive desire to reveal the emptiness, in
agony. where are we? and how have we arrived in so violent of
circumstances? ARE WE A-L-I-V-E? the density of proper-ness insults our
finest and barest desire: to live without the restraints set before and into
our streams of blood and consciousness. let's capture the moment's
idealistic quality and refrain from falling into the net of standard-ness --
in conventional terms -- of which most refrain from seeking knowledge.
tomorrow we approach a new-ness unheard of by the fleas and the
micro-organisms perched with king-like status atop the flea of their most
wise decision: but heard with uproarious shouts of blessing within our most
private quarters, the mind. a call to action! what pleasant-ness! for now:
we sleep, only to wake in dreams of fresh litter, in terms of success.
goodnight, my love, and dream with the aid of colors yet un-made. for
tomorrow, yes, a day, just one: we sing.


Copyright 2000 by Kristen Bonnette