enfant terrible

eighties punk 

we turned up the volume 

crossed our bloodlines 

et voila 

enfant 

terrible! 

#katyamills

ultra

the violet 

halfway between blue and invisible

became violent 

attacking an otherwise

nondescript wavelength

with a volley of purple multiphasic

rain

our rocks

developed button fly star

kicks

what a bloody

mess

#katyamills

i fought it all

now i live and know differently, i see how unwilling i was to accept my lot in life. how sad. so many years lost fighting shadows. reality never folded...

i am okay now, mostly. i have my moods. maybe those years were neither sad nor lost. they just were. i liked a good fight. i liked being counter and intuitive...

whatever. it made me who i am. and i am no longer any demon or junky. i would rather ask you more about yourself. then chase down juicy stories in my head.

this moon is not pink and they-them-theirs never will be

Though you call them the 'pink moon' and dress them in floral prints of the season, the full moon tonight will show their true color to you tonight and let you be let down (or up), and they will light your faces up so they can see how happy or sad you are to see them so. And they will shine upon the phlox they were misnamed after, whose flamed flowers will rise in unison to the top of their stems to peer upon them, and feel their power of persuasion, and the feeling will feel full and beneficial and the phlox flower water will become bubbly and pour pink champagne into the trumpet of the lily. All will at very least acknowledge the full and vibrant moon for their mighty refusal to be classified, categorized, denigrated, or diagnosed. Darwin may well be confused, yet his curiosity a contagion the whole world could catch. The moon was a kind moon, a gentle moon, a moon of many colors, and kept their feelings somewhat to themselves, so not to disturb the galaxy.

little children made a song they like to sing
every april comes around...

then one day 
the pink moon got away
turned blue 
for me and for you
happily and for 
ever

too

stigmata. a tease

"There’s no time to brood and worry, what a waste worry would be, like playing your xbox until you’re utterly xuded and eyes tend to bleed, walk outside and get mobbed by the faithful seeking miracles and stigmata. I believe in Kell, and she believes in me, or at least I wanna believe she believes in me cuz I believe in her. We lost our connection, so what? Lines get cut every day. May we be among the faithful, abiding miracles."   --  from Ame and The Tangy Energetic (Book #3)

cover book #2 by katya

dominoes. heaps of clothes -i

We got pushed and shoved until we formed into something bigger than the pushes and shoves, something resilient and not without a heart for a fight. Outcasts on the margins and nowhere else we wanted to be. You could see it in our eyes, night after night. One could tell that's how we hooked up, you and me

all i got this morning is you
all you got is me
and two battle ax lounge ax young
blood kittens

suffer some more and you will
have something

we are daft
      first draft
we are punk

tough shit if anyone thinks they know
how we will work out

peanut butter jelly
and skunk

me and you of all the meanings
could be derived. like the mountains
a long long time ago

even when it was now
me and you got drive.
and never will be
again

i kinda wish sometimes
we were still
friends

normal sucks

 There was no time to have a nervous breakdown so I had to find another way to fall apart. One idea was going numb, it was quiet and unexpected and not violent until the very end. I had tried that method but the end never came. Sun, fresh air and alka seltzer got me back to baseline. I began interrupting my mother during our long talks when she was the only one talking. I started pacing and thinking and talking to myself, which was much more normal-like; there were even five expressions for my face, all of them different shades of unrealistic. I could fall apart that way maybe. By diving into a fantasy. I did this for a while and I got bored as hell. I had begun to give up on ever falling apart in a way that was acceptable to society. There was even less time anymore for a nervous breakdown. I was walking through a strip mall with my head down, depressed, when I saw a dollar store. Well, the pavement in front of a dollar store where someone had spraypainted 99c in blue. I went in to press my luck. Every dollar store has something unexpected that you didn't know you needed, and usually it's not a dollar. I saw them and had to have them. The slippers. Blue, purple and white stripes. Fuzzy and open at the heels. My feet were aching in my usual black shoes with no support and black soles. I bought the slippers and put them on and went to work in them. Everyone was totally impressed. I'm not sure if it was the slippers, or the fact that I came to work in them. I didn't really care, either. My feet congratulated the floor. It was totally unacceptable.

spoken word is back - 'punk'

Or, as the band House of Pain used to sing...

'back from the dead, with a shaved head'

Here's the latest!  'punk.another treatment'
(ps i do not always post my spoken words on the site, so if you really like them and want to see them, best to subscribe to my Youtube channel)

love you guys 
thanks for supporting me   -K

punk. another treatment

moment to moment
you keep drifting
or sink

be a lilypad
think about the frogs to come
and how best to support them

or leave
fall from a tree
scratch the water's surface

sink to the pond floor
nestle with anaerobic 
scum

week to week we
face the bleakness
around us 

(you can)
color it in

give it the middle finger 
if you really care
sometimes

that's punk.
really caring

enveloped in media glaze -ii

There i was
shoelaces untied
hair untied
falling down
unmade up

there i was again hoping
to be myself to
find my way out
of my act

waiting in long lines
making friends
either side of me
leaking subconscious
on a drowning day


there i was
a poached egg
trying to get back to scrambled
or even better

broken fresh over fried rice

there i was again
precise GPS unknown
unaccountable
no reservations at anyone's table
these holidays
Just the way I like it

visions of skaters
fat laces, boards and ink
All-Stars
just shining and breaking
out the dirt... a gem of a
friend


there we were hanging out, loitering
falling, receding....
gone

someone was trying to talk me out of something
who, i don't know. the law?
i don't care

ride a rail outta
nowhere

zen hen

Before they found her...

They were looking for a pleaser like me, or like you. Carefully. Like a mental health evaluator, after monthly quota of eligibles has been met and just exceeded. In the fullness of our lives, on the dark end of a half-moon feather cut of a night. On the cornish line. They were looking for the special chosen one. The ten out of ten eggs are good, hen. Initial results were disappointing. That was before they found her.

Now the inspectors flashed their zirconian smiles. Delighted. Soon the cheap rock would be scraped off and replaced. A different tune would play. Thanks to our totally realistic, alert post its inertia, cluck or duck, fix-whats-broken, walk-on-eggshells, notorious to be, substitute teacher, future-minded zen hen... there she is! In the wheat corner, the favorite, the oddsmaker, the two to one super-standard! Our saving grace! There she is. Rearing a thousand chicks...

Future numbers girls? Only time will tell.

notarize the thighs -ii)

And there in the alleys, lay the sweet marrow of culture...

With ink on the arms and legs and the core. boys and girls who seek safety in all diverse self-expression; who know no other refuge in a lifestyle recession. all races and creeds and classes unite. welcome to the miracle of usa subset! creative. inspired. inspected by #444 yet mostly misunderstood. resistant to the tool and die cast condemnations. flipping the script on all morality-play machinations. the courageously stumbling around in the dark. the seeking to define a new future for all. taking chance to defend the foundation integrity. shooting down any luck of the draw. this is where we found shelter, or where it found us.

where you found me, and i found you. the intimacy between us, beyond any screw. the end of the end of the end of world wars. the anti-authoritarian seam. running up and down the side of some chix flicking-eye-lash. An awesome metallic spark for the scene. The rebellion burning through the black-leather soul. A heavy-hearted embrace, from one to another. In the eyes, we see home. We drink sumatra. We eat seaweed. We laugh and we cry. Back home and we missed you, the whole place got shy. Without the wild heart of a beloved lost soul out at sea. Nourished back home now, and got love for you and me...tbc  xxoo

Katya Mills, 07/13 

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