erotica

 a short story I wrote was published here...

https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/06/19/better-half-of-hen-by-katya-mills/

-Katya

posts 5.23

on a planet 

the color of rose 

we immerse the rows 

in liquid metal 

so not to come 

undone 

in the cold heat 

of absent 

sun 

not want for courage
i am spent from these dealings
the theme lingers
producing images and words
i hope to say or convey
useless i flop on the couch
in the pulsing light
it’s my something sweet
comes with painful
era

the forms spoke 

with intent 

at the pace of earths 

rotation 

the angle 

a bellicosity lent 

casting stark 

shadows upon the moss 

time 

took the rose off 

and left her 

spent 

nevertheless 

malcontent

she made waves she made a lot of enemies speaking her mind she made waves and you don’t always make friends making waves … at least they know you are more than a pulse

athens georgia was chock full of misfits … she hit 3 coffeehouses in 6 hours and they threatened to call security simply because she was asking about a croissant after ten minutes waiting wtf? 

graduates rolling on the grass making out

subdivision two. 3am

fears of perdition troubled the sleep. she turned pages letting the characters affection wash over her

she allowed herself a sugar cookie with oat milk

attended by the creatures of the night

original poetry by Katya Mills 2026

‪Katya Mills‬ ‪@katya444ever.bsky.social‬

collage of posts #5.2.2026

in most cases I would try to name it like anxiety when I was unable to be social. depression when I thought myself 2 lazy 4 not getting up. trauma when the mind went blank for hours... not to lose accountability. to give the self power 2 respond dynamically ... I followed the migration of charging metal beasts in an asphalt line across the desert. this, I thought, cannot interest the lion like the orchestra of calling birds. I became aware of night and day. dichotomous. the one full of mad laughter and moonlight the other working us to death ... the wool of the hungry sheep clearing the fields grew in a lunar pattern. uncompelling gravity. A bell hung from a neck and rang out mercifully in the terrible heat. I sang a little doing the dishes marking up my face boiling the eggs cinching my belt. he followed me everywhere. my kitten. sweet Lolo! if only i could bring those yearning eyes to work - well maybe there is a way? I met a young man. he was fishingfor likes with a click-baited hook at the tech bro block party in his drift machine. dressed to unimpress. it was only Thursday. he would call off Friday without a second thought for his team so to extend the weekend. cuz thats how you do it, he told me... some go off by themselves. pick off a farmer's lamb. tear it apart with the birds. they will hunt until they are hunted, looking for the pack to take them back. l learned you can face the day and all its turmoil feeling calm undersea. this comes of a practice of reflection turning inward and interpreting that world to share it with those who like to write and read. and sometimes a makeshift parade of thank you. no need to resort to trickery; just be bored enough until the imagination kicks in then you will know you have one.

a wild dune of sand you

held my painted toes you

anchored my knees

I cast my prayer into

the seas

the ocean's wind and water whipped up her fav drink: a salted trenta toasted kelp cold cream seafoam. no ice. and an extra shot of fauna served in a microplastic recyclable cup. enjoy!

blue light in the night she was a nail searching for the hammer, indeed apps shot into the void, running laps on circular trap, her friends married working smiling pregnant and she was scared moody drunk out her mind but some day... some day she would love & live well...

the morning is cool and i breath into my hands. the geese fly north in tattered V formations above the Central Valley. coffee on the balcony with the orange cat. let's make it a good one.

exalted no longer they moved surreptitiously across the city finagling apples and bread off street vendors and lowered they head beneath pissing cherubs choking with crazed laughter. five years later they first painting sold @ Sothebys for a half mill.

rebellious kids we just want to create somethin not follow every rule 2 its dead ending full of angst we lash out finally they call us troubled our conduct misinterpreted. supremely.

by Katya Mills 5.2.2026

latest publications

 Hi friends. as you may know I am working on a short story collection - my first. 

this week was a good one with 3 publications!

here they are ... 

read #1 my latest story published in the inaugural edition of this quarterly independent #press ... https://www.thewordsfaire.com/issuei/pulses-synched-and-fading

read #2 - https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/04/10/royal-sessions-10-5-1998-by-katya-mills/

read #3 - https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/04/11/cover-sheet-by-katya-mills/

probably all 3 will go into my collection.

I may have enough published stories now to submit a sample to traditional publishers looking to publish collections from emerging writers. so that's exciting. 

• Katya

Journal Entry #3.29.26

Oh not stop trying so hard, sweet heart. amplify your will! one of her alters offered, rush like the wind sounding across a vast forest. let them listen when you speak. it was a critical meeting and she was intimidated by the power in the room, mostly men with cufflinks and attitudes, steadfast and demanding. systemically there could be a domino effect depending on the outcome. she wavered - like she was having a change of heart - and regrouped and pushed the microphone down a little to say: to lead us out of this mess I endorse paperback books. I cannot get behind these talking heads. the green can in front of her on the lacquered table was shiny and made you want to drink but sprite would never be a great choice for your body or mind. the branding sold it. like the war in Iran for anyone naive enough to fall for that... of course her strategy failed and she was ridiculed. she was by far the youngest among those assembled there, and the only woman. years later, the bookstore was full of admirers who hung off every word. All her alters had unified into one compelling self. In the tempest - full of fear - I fell apart, she recounted. It was not how I hoped I would act. I would lean into these moments and learn. A crisis of any kind, if it didn't kill you, gave you knowledge and humility and brought meaning. It strengthened my heart with resolve.   #katyamills

Journal Entries #3.21.26

when working my intensity blurs at times like a cataract I guess it's just all these years on earth I've been so lucky to have. from this opaque coordinate my spirit becomes my greatest sense. i lean into it. coffee helps too. there was nothing opulent nothing of splendor there. a table. a chair. the walls were bare. some natural light. these were the conditions I demanded to work. oh. and a lock on every door. the only jewelry i wore was a necklace made from the watch chain from a boy who loved me. the tags of all my animals I loved and lost played a song on the sternum.

on the walk I saw him
bonny lad 

standing proud 

long black hair 

brown skin 

facing south 

it took me by surprise 

2 realize it was you 

my old friend 

conjuring 

so I can know 

you are well

made of precious metals in this plastic world filled with hate and nonsense. they were focused on connection and only used their drones to open eyes and hearts to pretty land and sea scapes. hope was absent but they pressed on. the world got colder. everyone at war. not just factions and flags. my extremities went a little numb. not to worry. pulled on a hat and fuzzy socks. then some bombs fell and I could not feel my heart. made a distress call. your warmth kept me alive. I love you

She paved a trivial highway. I listened. then opened my mouth like a bird before dawn speaking into a forest. She paved right over me. I wanted to punch her in the gut! you cannot do it over the phone.

 you surpass yourself! i declared

a jet left a creamy stitch in the sky 

as day and night

divide 

in the middle 

east 

hungry mouths open 

wide

A piece I wrote was published here in March ... https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/03/11/strange-euphoria-by-katya-mills/

Katya Mills, 3.21.26

(the above fragments were all published in variations on BlueSky and X over the past 2 weeks)

Journal Entry # 3.1.26

We were blind with it wet with it inside the foggy morning. I cut a piece out and pocketed it to touch in moments of despair. In the empire the interest rates climbed up from a base and everything out of reach. They left us to die in our phones. And then – your kiss



I go 2 you
blatant
my love for you
stops me in my pensive world
before you
there was no one
could drag me out of
there
no one
now like a cat
to birdsong
I go
everything stops
when you
call



‘ode to cat’

kiss you on your orange bouncy ears I see you. you used to perch in high places and watch me. I had to find you. 13 years on earth my beloved and now you approach me every morning. writing. I have to stop. I see you. can you please live forever? I love you



2.19.26

the poison wept and ran down the forearms. a queen castigates the bishop in the shadow of the castle. the skin mystified calls the blood to battle. we will never give in. no matter how you frighten us with your machines. she held him. could not speak.



stricken

crazed by an idea I must pursue before attention’s span fractures into atomic weak diversions like thread coming apart when you tug leaving your longing a silvery flash 2 vanish

one request

take me with you on your quest I will make your coffee b4 the rising sun interpret maps and stars with you when the day is done

inspired by imperialist mentalities they decided they could not help the ones trodden under the gears so they worked simply 4 status 4 prestige 4 family 4 country. in time they became knowingly unkind. blind. blaming the downtrodden for their condition

came back from dying obsessed with living came back from lying obsessed with honesty came back from apathy obsessed with trying feeling crying. to hell with all that self-pitying immolation and dying

bravo!

stellar be sure u amplify it on your platform. she brushed the wine off her lips and almost lost her balance. fuc u Darla. fuc u. she went to leave and stopped when he cried out. im lonely! well. she thought aren’t we all then? Billy. drink water. c u later



touched by limerence

first with my eyes I follow you overlooking these aperitifs these tangent sentimentalities my intrigue shifts orbital I center you pin my body to the outskirts of a dissolute party dreaming of you against me entangled if nothing else



She could not

slow down thought or image. the velocity was incredible at night lying in bed. She could not read a simple book or share a simple conversation. She shut her eyes in prayer. It went on like this for several weeks.



all entries by #KatyaMills @ 2026