july random writings and stuff

 Darla she dropped out of school and moved to the coast. It's not a crime to want to be happy, she would say. She worked as a cemetery docent and got into crafts. Anything washed up on the shore was fair game. ya. that was how I met Darla.

Descend with one knee
it was the moment she had been waiting for
and her cheeks blushed
when he looked up
it was pain 

it was horror
sweetheart?
yes my love ... yes?
I think ive torn my
meniscus

a dagger of geese ascends above the palpable memory of the dream I'm trying to rub out my eyes. a restaurant. I saw you. Freddy! you looked like you always had. alive! you gave me a colored string to remember by. i tie the baby's tooth around my neck.

1am. a confused looking indigent stands in the road. 

I put on my hazards and get out to help. 

they charge and knock me down 

yelling - look into my eyes! 

Okay. I will... 

2am. I am standing in the road. 

look. look into 

my eyes!

a tailwind threw off the scent. the whole pack looked upon her with benevolence. she somehow outlasted the hunt and made it home. a dog's teeth had torn her ear. the marking rendered an aura of 'do not fuck with me' for years to come

it was her turn a boy made a hold and she stepped up above all the heads rocking out to Mannequin Pussy she fell back laughing and surfed toward the stage

mosswood in the moss pit. punk is more than music it's an attitude it's an expression. its a queer and disturbed and fierce family. its a lifestyle. grateful for everyone who brought us together and John Waters. and a big F-you to the system!

the river set out to conquer the land 

in league with the summer rains 

cresting the earthen walls 

made to contain it

a young woman 

head shaved 

shed her ego on 

the flooded 

plains

by Katya Mills. 2026

story flash

 A story I wrote (300 words) ...

https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/07/06/middle-finger-2-gravity/

by Katya Mills

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