whirlpool

unsolicited

with lust in her German eyes 

she gave me the secret family recipe

for strudel 

at my feet the puppy

a golden shephard mix

on my head

your brother's helmet

from Nam

i was suddenly afraid i 

will be shot

#katyamills

She got more high than school (a chemical romance -1)

She was a dandelion chewin, flatbed lyin, urban cowboy screwin, truant from way way back. Like high school. She got more high than school. He was a youngbood creepin' west-side posturin' punk from Detroit, and he must of run game on her cause she thought he was the shit. She called him the m.o.a.b. thats the mother of all bombs. He called her the m.o.a.b. too. Mother of all bitches.

Her friends sought out to neutralize his fake ass masquerade, and win her back like a scratcher recompense for a month long losing streak. Her friends lacked mercy. Here it gets worse, see. Their connection grew more intimate, exclusive and chronic. He had stepped out upon her moonscape. She revolved around his planet.

Little did she know the gravity of his influence: demonic, sideways, maybe halfway satanic. Her tides came in rushes, in spurts, twice a day now. She was emotionally rewired to his synthetic new standard. He watched her do dishes, he watched her ass move. He lay listless in bed, like nothing to prove. The only extension he gave to support her? A bourgeouise yawn, with laisssez faire torture...

to be continued

votive free of motive

We hit redwood forest
the trail became arduous
we struck sacred ground
out of breath
just the three of us

The czech was independent
the german, creative
 the native...
 native

We were three natural forces
with our inherited powers
forgetting the seconds
the minutes
the hours

Forgetful non-selectively
 within the span of one day
to give space for whatever...
to get out of our way

lighting one single candle
flame red and blue
dancing
at nightfall

generation of shadows
signed off by
a votive

the whole essence of the scene
free from all motive

we looked into our eyes
transparency level
raised high
where all became possible
 to live free or
 die

by Katya W Mills
kissilent.wordpress.com