silica on asphalt

the vernacular of a friday night 

in the city punctuated by tires 

sketching patterns on asphalt 

carbon black and silica

synthetics form symbols 

of collective youth rebellion

in the haze of drift

#katyamills

sour blueberry

to live with those who cannot in mind and heart, not needing some soundtrack behind you. to not give credence to all the random thoughts popping off. like blueberries on the bush some are sour. you don't have to care for them.

#katyamills

eight 18

friday. the big feelings. cannot get around them. the thoughts walk silently into court. powerful strides. my body fills with tension. these tendons when plucked make fine music. I place a palm over my heart and breathe. hopefulness, seated there, uprises!

#katyamills

0400 yum

shell station 

0400 hours in my

army green tights 

friday morning 

got you laughing @ the coffee island

sipping machine 

made hot chocolate 

in slippers humming 

yummmmm

#katyamills

you and i

pushing through a friday

cabbage and coffee grounds

span of paperwork cuts of dark 

chocolate. don't know how don't know

why i cannot stop loving

you

#katyamills

world bipolar

time made history we

shred the wheat in the bowl

soak in milk and 

digest. they lie in the mud

sheltered by big red hats

and flags. injustice

never ends. world bipolar we hope we 

retreat then take the stage

more colorful than red

white and blue 

#katyamills

ad.venture

i may not feel ready but i get out of bed and fire up my engine with some coffee and water. it's friday. i don't know what will happen but i love an adventure. i'm gonna take it moment by moment. bring it on!

peel session

my version of aromatherapy was dropping a grapefruit peel down the sink and turning the switch to obliterate. i met someone like that. her life like a grapefruit peel after she lost her daughter to suicide. i did a lot of deep stretches. i wrote a letter on greenish colored paper with a pinkish colored pen. i had an assortment of vivid dreams and got up easily every morning at four am. prayer got me through a couple rough patches. the rain materialized and cleared into sunshine. i got to feeling so very alive.

faith.2018

May you not be fearful today. Even were our worlds enveloped in dark matter and shut out from the sun. Come close, feel the life as it breaks in my voice. We will stay warm by the light we cannot see but on faith, in our eyes. 
- katya

there won't be any weekend

I know it's saturday but there won't be any weekend, I promised, the pulse will count out the same in sixty seconds and I cannot live any other way; I am anti-heroic when it comes to arresting the life in me. I can slow my breath to a near standstill and hibernate on a couch with a cell phone texting emoticons to god through t-mobile, torturing myself with online validation. I don't have an avatar. This wild child of atari is fresh out of excuses for joysticking the halfway living. I cannot even cry about the sad stuff, unless it's yours, cause the sad life is long gone and even if it kills me I promised to fulfill these dreams if only in the making.

There won't be any time off, nahahna, I used all my PTO, all my floating holidays, all my sick days and all my fuckin vacay, distributed through the twenties and thirties, the dopamine bordering on bottoming out. Hell, I had my glory nights of indulgence and days of despair. You probably see it in my eyes. Now the fire comes from within and I am home! So there won't be any weekend just a shot of cream into coffee, on a table turning. Lemme in the mix. Scratch me. Spin me. Put me in play. I can give you what you need. Saturday night seems fluid and I love to work it out with you like this.  --Katya © 2016

friday morning. recalled

Swiss made time by cheese, I thought, semi-conscious through the drought. Life she makes us suffer, and suffer makes me someone i can stand by, i don't know why, the processes consist of their own metabolism, and play across the bones and drop another fathom. What a jerk to transmit to you something makes you suffer more, but flip that pancake as it bubbles, and wonder again, years later as you pay to play, if it was not blessed, the cursed thing, aching in your many frames and asanas, as you cobra up to free the energy in the spine with a click, and the python of the body shows you your confines, my dear, oh that I would wrap my loving arms around your neck and kiss you again like it was, run my fingers over the turf of your grey hair, press myself into you for the longest time after breakfast, despite the cats crying for scraps, the coffee steaming its goodness in milk, the morning light guided by blinds... you a working man you work so hard has only made you stronger and i become softer by you. do not give me nothing bad, please, with or without intention. I must open your apology like a flower like a fortune, and remember I am soft I am small for these moments, after which I can blossom with your kindness into the biggest me i can be. and i thank you and lace my arms up and around your tremendous back broken not, and the clock has no sway over us, not now in August, and you say nothing changes and though I get what you mean, it cuts to the spleen because in our intimacies everything made different and new by me by you, my love... we are independent spirits reaching out and suffer still, just like all the life the world around, so I gotta keep it cool and let you go after I gave you your sustenance toward your work, I hope, because giving is gold and taking got old. I want the new and i am into you.

Journal. mood manufacturing

Notes from the mood manufacturing plant...

It is Friday here at the mood manufacturing plant, and all whistles are singing your praises in an emotive appeal. The ventilators are venting all moods colored red. The transducers moving them straight from the head. Come see our blue room for a good cry. An assembly line of grief counselors reconstructing the tears. We fill up the clouds and send them up and away. To irrigate your dried out and rational demeanor. If we mix the reds and the blues, for a slightly larger sum, we can brew up a real nasty storm - and then some. Manufacture some drama, it  certainly won't be the norm. What would you like? Some celebrated success? A moulten euphoria? Your pride, undressed? A smoking hot aura? See here! We canned vulnerability in brine. The saline of premium salts off the vine. Wholesale we offer three episodic moments to the penny. All those memories could be refreshed, like old songs in your ears. It costs almost nothing, come now,  reduce yourself to tears.

Journal # 02.27.15

Friday. Hope comes in funny forms. Losing the idea of a maid. Grabbing a broom and a mop. The mind fascinates when running or riding the bike. Oh the visions I have. The heart pumps harder, oxygen goes to the head. All ennui falls out the window. The sun, after a few days obscured, becomes a delight. The skin opens up its pores like a flower opens petals. Some rain in a drought may just do the same. And then the dreaded phone rings. And yes, the dreaded phone alerts. The dreaded alarm. Or the dreaded quiet, dark, descent into nightmares. No. Dear friend. This is not the end. Waking after a little hellish torment, is always so much brighter to be free. Take your bones for a walk and to dinner. Propose yourself a plan to make that dream come alive. Hold on to the blueprints, laminate them, plaster them on the walls of your mind. Then get to work. Keep the spirited sense of urgency! And when the fruits fall and are not anyone's delight? When the fruits fall and rot on the ground? There, there. This is not your concern. Keep taking sun and rain! Do not be sad for long. Let the fruits die. Another harvest is soon and sure to come! Keep giving yourself over to your passion. With urgency now, my dear, with urgency. I see you! You are a big part of this.

K Covers the EAGLES

Just a little fun for your Friday...

K cover song:  EAGLES
'Best of My Love'