immediacy

you twisted the storyline. it was a lesbian memoir from the year 2000. must you? I got turned off by this thing that turned you on. Imagining me with other men and women. We were at quite an impasse. a little hopeless. I looked you in the eyes. we both started laughing.

  #katyamills

hope ina hopeless time

back to the liquor store

for another scratcher you
poured a cup of coffee at the gas
station walked out
of town on the train
tracks you recited in your head
the smile the cashier gave you
the balanced smile


all the hope you
ever had ina hopeless
time



#katyamills

recreate.journal

Yesterday I ran and the weather was hopeful, was spring. Today the hopeless feelings come on in waves, and collect inside me then strike. They leave me hurting. I won't have time to sit with them for tea. I must ditch them and go to my work. I am confused. I am touched. My eyes feel weak from staring at the diverse screens. My spirit is strong. My mind is tired of going over it all. The world. The brevity of life. The many many feelings I mistook for fact. Again I promise myself to do what's in front of me, refuse to retreat or indulge in the pain. For even if the sun be stolen from the sky, I must recreate the sunlight and be joyful. There is no other way I can live.

last ache. 2014

eye - eye
- eye

there it is again
some sorta pain

no need to ask
god why

listen to the wind

listen to mister coffee
brewing 4
misses
drinks-coffee

away from the pain
away! (the pain)

(somethin' about they don't understand)
(somethin' about what i did not or could not do)

about hopeless
about helpless somethin' about
less and less
nesses

solace

what a word
what a dream...

what a day i had

fallen asleep by the kitten
to end it

wishing i knew
how to curl
round my
tail

too


poem © Katya Mills
photo © Katya Mills

Pale in comparison

When all has gone to hell, and you wonder where has gone your life, romantic, and think you know its never gonna materialize for ya... try and go deeper. Deeper below the muddy muck, lies firm and solid virgin ground. Always. You cannot see this. The obvious senses fail to sense it. But like any unknown future sweet heart friend, the end of mankind numb and detached from his purpose and climbing the walls of his will, six feet deep in despair, walled in by walmart, targeted by target, entertained to near death, technologically baffled, compulsively obsessed, imaged in selfie stew, face cut by seven blade razors, telemarketed, stuck on stupid, shot at by solar flares, inundated by cell rays, frozen in fear frosting, sucking on substitute sugars, dipped in electromagnetic confection, infected by ad campaigns, propped up by viagra, shuffling whole food aisles, dripping wet with pharmaceuticals, sexting with sextetris puzzle pieces piling up to game over like dome storage war won at auction and amassed in space to the gills....
is not without a certain possibility of the dream girl hidden and ready to strike out hopeful into your cigar-fog atmosphere from the fake cake they rolled out at the fat cat corporate party, pale as the throat of a bullfrog in spring, in comparison.