July 10

the warmth we once had between us began to burn. talking to you felt dangerous like dodging thrown knives or jumping a live wire. i don't know where it all went wrong or maybe i do. i cannot answer the phone when you call. not because i don't want to. it's just not safe anymore.

#katyamills

october. california

fall the fields arid
dry. the vineyards patched out
from the sky

we worry the wind
we worry the skin of earth
and tree. shed out
and sprawling free

end of night
downtown

i follow the arc of the tip
of your cig. you damned drunk!
and quietly stamp out
the berry

angels in portland

I have many angels they come in many forms. One time I was in Portland and they followed me there and saw I was in a weak state, susceptible to influence and likely to walk into danger. I had many an adventure over the course of several days, there, and met hardened criminals who I spoke with plainly. And I exuded an emotional honesty. I was smoking lots of cigarettes. I was in a lot of pain then, having survived a sequence of nightmarish events. I was in between worlds. I did not always realize right away I was in danger, but when I did I had enough time and conviction and skill to maneuver my way out of it. I believe I remained unharmed because of god, intuition, family, and my angels. I have become the kind of person who is more modest than proud, more intuitive than smart, more compassionate than driven, and more conscious of others than I am of myself. And someone whom anyone would be less willing to harm, maybe, more willing to get their needs met by asking me first, knowing I would be inclined to give whatever I can to you, freely.

deadbolt

i remember when i
did not feel safe

without a
surgical steel
Stiletto switchblade
pressed in
my palm

behind
a dead and
bolted
door

still

the greatest
danger i faced
at that time
was me

Journal # 06.17.16

i may not be a geometry star, but i know how to leave the seven ball behind the eight and take your money on the nine, i might have lost our debate, but i can talk you out of getting behind the wheel, drowned in imperial pints as we are, together at last side by side in some pub, living outta memory, under overcast skies, looking in your eyes. i may not vote this time around, but that don't mean i don't know my rights, kid, in no swing state and we are colored blue and shaped like an ass, too. and i vote for you. i have been broken-hearted a hundred times over, but we will get her rolling again just takes a little tender love and care, ima mechanic of love, wavin' white towel flags to your window, you see, look up in your eyes, those wild and overcast skies, you stare down at me all wonderin' am i dangerous? will you fall for me again, will i charm you somehow from the outside in, and a bottle of gin, i might not hold a steady job, but see me beside you sunrise to sunset, holdin on to us yet, down calm like the charm, any unfortunate scenario, say, four or five alarm, seven ball behind the eight, and hopeful to disarm all that old unchallenged hate got you heavy, deep in the past where it's buried, someone who hurt you, and so you need help, you need love, you need someone you can trust. will i be the fortunate one? can i be careful and gentle with you? acknowledge every tear fallin off your face, pushed out on to the streets hand in hand for all tomorrows, or maybe just right now. dangerous now, come here. dangerous now, me and you and there's no other way.

Journal # 03.17.15

Danger never apologizes for itself. Comes into my life and gets on my nerves. Makes me think, when I would rather enjoy my single origin coffee all quiet about the mind. Keeps me on my toes. Manifests in scared bodies throwing the weight of fear around. Meet danger in a dark and lifeless place. Watch your back. I can only hope to protect my body from harm. Keep your head. What is more certain yet less palpable? Defense of the spirit. Keep moving. Wear a protective amulet. Wear out your welcome in the true and loving communities.

'blue & yellow' by KatYa

 Not everyone gets to know me, anymore. It is that simple. I used to give myself to anyone. Spiritually. I was all tingly about the aura. My boundaries... what boundaries? Experience came to stay. Killed me a few times, only to refashion me as I am today. A warrior. A survivor. Not to be trifled with. I am still the sweet and generous soul you once knew. Yes. I am still soft and kind. I still laugh and I still cry. I still show a child to the trusted few. And you? Who are you?