legacy

leavin legacy 

behind 

i drift the solar 

systems 

young model 

outfitted  

for space

shot through 

the heart

by stars

#katyamills

star free remix

i am star free i am
overcast sky

all the bad habits i
traded them in 4 something more predictable
something more certain

uncommon

i blackened Hollywoods
digital rolling
eye

you are blue you are chaos

you remind me of my old self   
gripping hearts between  

thighs

no longer unmoored 

i am star free cloud-based
outlandish

i am grateful
i shot myself out of
the sky

#katyamills

star one

star one

aglow after starlight receded

the others

having over spun

exceeded

the star speed

limit

star one

stayed true

made light

4 a little 

space

#katyamills

you star

you star
you star
you star

you've not fallen
you've only moved
us

we fall (recollection. november 2010)

Has been
she was. she was a has been
looking quite seductive
attracting our energy
i remember with sadness
we remember collectively
the witches
the sufis
 the mystics
the number people
those who lived and died by the numbers
and still do
scratched rolled
got high kick adrenaline off numbers
got lowdown dirt broke
laid over numbers
by the tracks
across them

A double cross then
on this one night
three times heated over
some petty useless argument
murderers murder over
(needed an excuse that's all
they cannot kill without reason)
no real reason
just lost
double crossed
fumblin to get wide of my skinny jeans
on the beach
last night
tonight tommorrow
night

Some kinda player he fashions himself
me some kinda someone
he plays
well i was not gonna
open up for no singular double crosser
guess what
guess what if you're guessing
(throw my sandy blonde hair back
over my eyes so not to give away
whats behind them)

Betrayal
the colors were changing my iris
cobalt blue turning royal
i am crossed in this setup
its painful. his means to my end

Just so
just so used to violence
always im touched. made to feel like giving up
you must be violent with the world
violent with self
violent with me and
i got the patch can you not see i
got the goddam medal
ya. still. you would get into it with me
the cannot be spoken and not even here
understood

Come here with your weak game to this ball of resistance
 this wall. my existence
come here to my softness
and soft may i be
yet bold with flavor like
english breakfast tea

i won't need a receipt
i will walk away before you chance to raise your eyelids
you never even caught me half mad out the door

Half mad
half out
half lost by
the door
half mad
half out
half empty
half sad
none innocent

Double cross
and raise you twenty
the poverty adds up
to make us poor

You your solemn sorry self
just trying to score
thought i was on the take when i wasn't
Had you seen yourself going down
you could have would have saved your self
again recounting the drama the day drove into
your lungs when what you call a heart
is unknown to you

You who made the world ache
in the eighties what with
 your prosperous nonsense you're
 unnecessary

You gave when giving itself was on the take
 jake

    a snake
          a snake
 reptilian counters your smooth wanna-moves

No one
not even that younger girl you had
down by the small towns the
small lake
a quiet night it was
 and that's what gave you away. too late
too late too late for her anyway
(she's the kinda one im here to remind you of. hello)

If not myself
not myself
whom you clearly forgot
behind your made upedness
I would be
i was
worn out
my make up
well. just fell

Fallen down in cream mineral bare
essential straight loss
i gave up on you
and your double cross
you see. i crossed too. i had to

got prepared
had an agenda
planned it out
(what a cost)

Ya I wore the long boots skinny jeans
you saw. you knew
(you wanted it, too)
damn
i feel cursed
i feel cursed just like you
just so

Made up me and you the monsters
in this creature double cross feature
this sordid rendez-vous

Made me a star
i got the feeling awash over me like a little kid. i did.
whose feelings come like waves roll out like petals
to the song of the sun every day
opened up. in this state
were it blissful
were we pensive
houston
were we texas

No, no. no, i never been there. will you take me someone
i'm a star, remember
the star
i'm some star. right. and stars shine
they do. remember
they dont go
they dont go just where you ask them

Dont listen. stars. do they
(always gotta get some action)
You know by what you get...
what you got when you
ask them

Royal blue drained to cobalt
i hid this from you
you did not exist for me then
nor did i for you
goddam
you kill me
a little more every time

I'm tired. i'm tired thats why i'm talking to you
 about you
because
to you
about you
for you... one nation of you (under you)...
fuck you

See
we fall down
it's fall
and we fall
falling together
fallen down


over one
over all
we fall
we fall

Review: Running with Scissors

Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Sometimes the saddest things make for great laughs. Augusten's memoir is like that. He could have painted his childhood in brooding, sentimental brushstrokes. The abandonment. Mental illness. The manipulation. But he edited out his ego and left us with absurdity. The peculiar absurdity which comes with tragic circumstance like fast food come with fries. Neither is really good for your health. I got sick with him. And broke out in laughs.

View all my reviews

the child

O wide awake in America, big sky highway hollowing out the ears predawn, cut me like a cookie and may i taste good too, share myself with you and you and you, sweet sugar has me processed in dreams and tumbled out a foamy bed into my own personal despair, sliding down the inner sanctuary of a question mark to collect and drop whole you made of me, sweet sugary period, plastic in my blood, pharmaceuticals in my water, disaster strikes and i lick my lips like you and smile, but no one smiles like we do, upside down or kinda flat, tethered to the mobile phones we kill by our deep sleep, counting ringtones like sheep, shearing and swiping the hell out of an alphabet, on a jazz or classical base as the temperature begins to rise with the sun, another day washing dishes and dusting and cutting boxes the perfect size to ship my ass away to some infernal packaging depot to be fitted with my personal bar code, my very own, which is linear and bold, impervious to black mould, scanned or so I'm told, taped then situated in some draughty unremarkable corner in the cellar of a warehouse to grow old. All i know is no one can erase me even if they try, I am forever etched into your hard drive, America, no matter how the cleaners cleanse, efforts to coat me over bleach me out only leave my prominent lines bubbling up from the cracks and surfacing again with all the gasses, grilling the faces of the masses ordering me around, yet still i stay aloft in my dissociated safe place way up high, finding me in a cut up creatively commoned place looking down, streaming on your horizon, only the light protects us now in our projections. Back out where I belong, some ionic bond, trashing your paint job with my spraypainted flare, exposing your destination to the going nowhere, breaking out the bars when i decode the code, fingering you with my fingerprint, America, until you see your own stars and go black and white again, from Birmingham to Ferguson, up the checker board and Martin Luther King you at the end, redoubled on a chance, green felt absorbs your glance in a healthy tribal casino where all the bad blood is blue, you see, the karmic knot we work it out, massage it real well, strike it with needles until you finally falter, sweet vulnerable America shedding your suit, crying and opening like that before the seamstress. And my lines are out of order, spinning into circular pools fallen stars, and the many shades of blue wash over me and you, when the world forgives and finds a place in the heart for a renewable source, because somehow you were always meant to be pleasant on the eyes, America, and generous though talkative and combative perhaps, you wear out your welcome in a superfluous way, and everyone has a good laugh and pats you on the head, for you are the child and loved just the same. Back to bed now with prayers, and we will see you in the morning, the rubbing of eyes, tumbling down stairs in your nightgown, little one, big sky highway musculature, heavy with some imagined purpose, dreams of carbon and oxygen and coffee churning blue to black in post industrial aftermath, shining oily head to toe, shedding another skin, inspiring us with your renewals. I will be there, my love, somewhere in the corners of your eyes, sucking on Maybelline, about to exit the glistening curve and drop unseen into your wilderness... where i have always belonged.

Journal # 04.20.15

I am listening to the kids playing in the park across the way. I know adults who sound so giddy. They also have been entrusted little to no responsibility. They can line up for lunch in the parks. They can play silly games and do things that seem irrational. Nobody really listens. And no one picks the adults up at the end of the day, unless it's the law. I am listening to the kids and then the birds. I cannot see the birds unless i inspect the trees closely. Same goes with everthing else. I try my very best to mimic the different birds. The cat looks at me despairingly. I give him a plate with an oval of cream. He laps it up, then licks his whiskers and dreams of the mother he never knew. The cream holds its shape well. I step on the scale. The sound of the mechanism rocking into place. Finding me a number to hold onto today. XXX. Within fifteen pounds of the weight I have been within fifteen pounds of since I was fourteen. I am thirty pounds heavier today than I was then. Hopefully it is all in my mind.

My toenails are painted silver and nobody sees them. My fingernails are not painted. Nobody sees them. My highlights have grown out, so what could excite me anymore? I cannot look forward to sleep. The passage of time disturbs me. From moment to moment, life seems so simple you cannot let it get away from you. And then it gets away from you. I wanna think of you and the kids and the adults seem like kids but don't get picked up at the end of the day. Unless it's the law. A good day is a day I have not much interest in myself. I listen to the birds and the bells of the church ring the hour. I try my hand at mimicry. Then fight to have my voice back. I am tired of the me and my shadow. Whatever happens to me now, is not my concern. Terrible things have happened. Incredible things. And many endless dull days in between. I set my course for the stars, and when I arrive they are city lights and desires. So I struck out for friendship in the night. The times are amazing and I am loved and hated. In the end I got only one thing and that was out of there, alive.

Journal # 02.28.15

Saturday. I was made in a form. Crescent cut. You were of another, edgeless kinda moon. The difference between us is what made us. Together we elevated. The buttons popped off of my blouse. You touched me. The sky framed us. A puffy cloud walked through us. Left us dripping on star number seven. You counted to ten, I hid in a black hole. You turned to dark matter. I became breathless. You found me. Now I am yours. 

the day suffering died

Her eyes reflected Mercury
the sun 
   not far away

Through branches
capillary 
red
they saw 
by the reflection

         suffering was
      dead

time for endless
              bliss

SHE COULD HAVE ME

"I would give in to her, and only her. All she had to do was rearrange the stars to spell my name in the sky. Sure, she could have the totality of me. All she had to do was compel the Buddha out from under that tree, to come and sit beside me. Ya, then I would be hers. All she had to do was pave the streets in platinum, put pearls around my neck and ankle, ink our love forever in a secret place on her body, put an end to all my pain, dress me in black with a white rose behind my ear, ask my hand of my divinity, by the thought heard around the world. I had no lofty demands! All she had to do was marry me, in San Francisco City Hall, with a sea of origami white ravens overlooking. I was easy! All she had to was what she did last night, a hundred and one times over, and love me down to my cotton stuffed ears and black button eyes, my DIY made soul patched together with fishing line leftovers." -K