true crime sediment

a new year

a deeper shade of blue overcomes the other colors

i fear the sediment damaged my

superlative sparkling 

outlook

i head to the lab 

with intention to forge 

a true crime 

filter

#katyamills

HI

by KatYa

waitin for my fix
outside

chick passes me
like im a telephone pole

unlocks the glass door
i say HEY

all i need is a filter
and some water under
boil SEE

i got this fukkin maxwell
house

OFF the street
while waitin

THANKS

she snarls but
comes back with the
smokin teapot and
papers

my shaking hands
take the paper
lean my head back
on my nekk

empty tin into
paper put paper
over mouth

lift teapot over
head and POUR

now im really
flyin

HI

'and we miss you'

and we miss you

by Katya Mills

about innocence, lost

So they finally came over me… wonderfully…. sadly… terribly powerful but so could I only be humbled and basically in tears and sudden mourning and of course, somewhat secretly as is the fashion i guess,  a process instinctuelle - not contrived or deliberated or prepared…no, like all matters of things diverse and sundry, the need comes over me to tell somebody (and possibly nobody), though my faith resides all over planet heart to the core.  

Lineage download to the system 32, or in my case, 39 going on in cautious anticipation through the forty filter which now is like static or push off of some tropical blemish on some warm yummy blue sky caribbean dream day.

Every green spread of earth above sea level, from cuba to barbados across the cuts of rough waters swirling all directions and drawn into tight circles by the rising winds of an incubating tropical depression…

Hell!

The waves lap up against my thoughts with an empathic kiss and on slipping out away moments later. 

A child learning to read and write and get along. 

Just passed that frightening entrance into the great institution.

Now feeling warm and even cared for many days of the week.

Perhaps 'well-acclimated' and relieved to have been ushered in so sweetly…

with all my being I swear I would tear the fucking eyes out the head of the evil which came across and stole them from us…

Profile: filter systemics, twenty thirteen

She was pretty cool...
before she became lead singer by her own self-election
within the band she formed of her own vainglorious self-promotion
after years on the trail of herself (like a bloodhound) and her own self-unfolding...
in deinterlaced leaves of cascading simplicities.

She was pretty cool by unfair prejudicial standards.
Like teenage mutant ganja standards in the lone star state. Or one of the many states that share its borders, despite vehement sworn disassociation.  What made her cool, cooler, was the precision marching up of bands of heat. Such efforts of interstate hate would not go unnoticed. Unfortunately.

Her reputation bubbled up over bunsen burners, in the kinda legend-making labs only the usa could conjure. Some of the same labs that produced our torrential downpours of cultural insomnia and paranoia, within the context of widely consumed sheets of shards of glass. Ya. A greater misfortune could not have been told by the third of three eyes, in the great psychic trailer pantheon of the sky.

Outside, the lamentations of the past, present, and future loosely-affiliated yet heavily congregated fearful remnants of the war on drugs, were not enough to put out the fire. Perfectly phalanxed in picket line style, yet penetrable nonetheless. Penetrable as a whose-who of crackhead ho's short-on-crack and long on tar black.
Penetration was not even the word for it. Much more subtle, merci dieu. Like those black and white b-flick wannabe cowboys and draft dodgers and other escapades escape-e's wandering into some sunken like forest and high or low-stepping right into quicksand. Sucked into the earth. That kind of sucks. Kinda sux.

 firekiller by katya

This was twenty thirteen. This was filter systemics. Filter politics. Filter engineering. The language obeyed its master. Penetration became Permeation. And permeation defied most laws of geometry. Thus rendering the phalanx useless. And linguistically defunct. Thus turning up the dial on the lamentations. Which only made what sucked, suck worse. The filtercone for swaths of glass had not yet been perfected, by the labs situated conveniently across the street. They were too busy shrinking the nuclear families of warheads for the current fear lobbyists of nuclear war, by government decree, and the tax of psychosocialspiritual stressors on such an endeavor was so high, the barrier of entry was one wrinkle short of a homeland security sanctioned fingerprint. So what sucked worse, only sucked some more.

Ya. She was pretty cool and out of touch-like, and going cold now. Heading toward hypothermia and frozen hysterics. She and her minions would need to purchase a really cool team of youthful fronting lawyers, by cagey corporate costly law school standards, to even gain a fraction of a chance of a snowball in hell with a colonoscopy-probe-probability following on the ass of a seldom struck facebook page. Open the fucking fan club vault, minnie mouse. It's gonna be a reach!

by Katya Mills  @ kissilent.wordpress.com
July 2013

some darkness (may make the light more visible)

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