Showing posts with label diaries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diaries. Show all posts

Saturday, 21 March 2026

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

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)

Sunday, 17 December 2017

aka.pain diaries

Gettin' to be great at anything is like throwing yourself into a whiteout a snow sky (not a blackout) and surrendering to how the world feels you touches you allows you to exist... and fights you to see what you're made of (engulfs you if you're not made of anything worth asserting yourself) and celebrates you if you can stay in it's light (and darkness) long enough (aka endure) to change and tolerate pain, and work at staying the same while changing. call it core values if you want. call it spontaneous expression. call it art or authorship if you want. call yourself god. see if I give a fuck.