Ukrainian joke

an explosion 

not far from Moscow

credit the Russians

smoking cigarettes 

again

#katyamills

city kids

an inside job turned out
a city kid gripped 
with doubt. the infinite details
the mind runs through

some barren fields
smokers heavy in their chains
anti-drug campaigns

DONT WALK        -      run!

she took your hand

in the street you 

knew you were 

loved

#katyamills

girl on bicycle with cigarette

death knell
church bell
she don't give a damn
hell

in better times

We all came together and sang songs terribly, and had a blast, smoking and drinking and singing awfully, i swear, the fingers fumbling around the keys, too, and everytime the foot dropped there was a pause for a breath and the snow was fallin heavy outside and icicles off the eaves, and we rolled up our sleeves the laughter was work and you could feel the stretch of your smile, and smoke was rushin up the flu and water rushin down the hill, not a goddam thing kept still and fuck it all, we sure were havin the best times of our lives and no one was gonna stop us

a voice from the locked away place never to be accessed again. collected like ink into my pen

 i am now like a universe, elliptical and spinning, knocking over furniture, ending and beginning, smoking and sinning... i died to become only more who i am, i really died so i could be somebody, like a reduction of a simmer off a pan, buried with a spade, they threw flowers down upon me, above me where i layed, they left flowers on my stone, teardrops by my grave... and i still am, if only they knew i am alive now like a universe, elliptical and spinning, knocking over tombstones, ending and beginning, smoking and sinning... here comes the dawn, all i ever was to you is gone, and it's sad in different ways, we are going through the phases manifold, younger now i'm old and doing what i'm told and it's tiresome getting weary i will have to move along, sing another song, try to hit the high note and hold it very long... my sadness is unlike yours but it's sorrow just the same, and i love who i am and that will never change, i love the hell outta you, out of the cocoon so we can look up to the moon and see things clearly once again, when we were best friends... dear god the memory, if i linger it will kill me, kill me where i stand, on a high rise, rising, in Shanghai or Hong Kong or Dubai or Chicago or Mumbai or LA or NYC or Vancouver or Helsinki or Madrid or Firenze or Berlin or Amsterdam or London or Hamburg or Paris or Brussels or Vienna or Rome or Athens or Moscow or Prague or Warsaw or Dublin or Saigon or Toronto or Monte Carlo or Santiago or Copenhagen or Port au Prince.

may we never suffer the way we suffered then

all the experience has collected like ink into my pen, i can work it out on the pages, you and me, my friend, while the pot of oats now boils over, cascading down the sides, puts the fire out, and now in darkness hides. then we give it to someone who needs it. i hope you feel the same. fumbling with the keys to unlock the deepest mystery... never again. abstract and untouchable. that's okay. you are a little more like me. in fact i know you are, because of what we went through you are always with me, i am more like you, thank you for the lonely nights, gone! searching for something and finding something else. and loving that, too. now we know what we needed was not what we thought, not what we wanted! we may not have a key. let's leave it there, locked away forever. i think so. i think so... i am now like a universe, elliptical and spinning, knocking over furniture, ending and beginning, smoking and sinning. i think so.

no sex. by choice

By choice
two years without
sex

hot to the touch
and
easy to
climax




alone

'wet dream on dry toast'

Aka - 'computer dissociative'

original material from K IS SILENT (partial)

The olive oil days were over. He should have known. He beat his head into the mahoganey like Perry Mason lost a case. So began the vinegar taste in the back of his throat, phase. He felt a feeling he knew well. All his bones shifted like some skeleton robot gone up and shorted out. Computer dissociative.

Off some where walking now with the interpreter was the girl. Saturnine with a lemon twist. Her freckles, sun kissed. The new fucking smart phone attache foreplay. Distraction impact high and non-resistant. She made a lovely nouveau interpreter’s assistant.

Not no store bought, this jam he had got himself in now, praying with a cigarrette out on the steps of the halls of justice. This jam was more like apricot preserves or some shit. Some district attorney’s intern’s intern, gave him a menacing look and an evil eye. 

No smoking on the steps to the halls of justice. Dummy.