my talisman

sad about a world gone bad 

on a heavy dose of sedative

you were quick to judge yourself

my talisman. when will you see

the light?

   #katyamills

sunrise 1

her face the sun had not touched for many weeks. she worked at night and industry never sleeps. the early sun caught her near the horizon pulling laundry off the line before the rains. she let the sheet fall to her chest. closed her eyes and felt it. #katyamills 

vaca to the earth

i wish i could be a space cadet for a day

seeing earth from a great great distance 

admiring her perfect beauty

wanting to go so badly 

thinking it would be everything it's not

rooted in my imagination

without landing gear 

i hike the interstellar trails

#katyamills

all you got

they beat the mean streets 

and hard luck faces 

by a big heart a 

penchant for laughter a 

stomach for failure 

ana means for makin 

easy cash and friends

ina forsaken land 

#katyamills

current z

the boy made worlds

where they could live

the girl commanded the currents

to lean back 

not take no one

too far out where they 

would or could

get hurt 

#katyamills

y.

many of the people the world has written off for dull have the brightest spirits, and shine
out from the dark places where their bodies have been relegated

life i love you. good friday

"Quiet life on softened streets, all the bad news backed away. You lucky kid. I washed my hair with 100,000 molecules. Each one like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the right ways. I made it to the site. I could peacefully fold my legs up under me on the couch facing the east, the house where nobody's home, facing, pinching my slip as I picked it up and let it go hang around freely, pinching myself. You lucky kid you. All the pages were viewed, in a free sweep of eyes (not mine). To be sure they really existed, outside of myself. Not so easily destroyed by water, heat, air, time. Thumbs rubbing the ink to a fade I can no longer describe. Each curve of every letter like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the spectacular finishes. Flourishes. You lucky kid. Thinking of a friend, one I haven't even heard of in years, a keystroke away, a daydream, attacking a search engine with a heart on a saturday in America, one truffle at a time, pulling lightly on the ends of twisted plastic until the whole thing rolls over and out, examining the condition of my condition, remembering the ionic bond even if it hurts. Life I love you."   - KatYa, 2016. excerpt from Ame and the Tangy Energetic

k by k on a sunny day 2016

THE (REALLY) REAL

Excerpt from K IS SILENT
'people work better when driven insane -vi / ii)'

Heroes. 

That’s what we ought to start calling ourselves. 

Those of us who have sacrificed our sanity, to join the really real. 

Because heroes are the ones who wanna wake up, sunshine, and want you to wake up, too. 

No envy, no coveting nothing. 

No needing of what can be ordinarily supplied, to get them going with their bad selves and into the world that way, all human and scarred, all making mistakes and so forth, all in the luxury of the poor, dishevelled, DIY, really kinda real and sensitive and depressed and anxious and emotional and socially awkward, or not, but creative in a way of living or working all day at some best effort cause, with a heart and some passion or compassion, otherwise sold at such a great discount and cost on some chop-shop butcher block of supposedly trickled-down economics. 

But instead owned 

and held dearly 

though appearing laissez-faire 

or loose 

or otherwise

 inaccurately judged...

 when all it is really, is worn out from trying. 

Worn out from giving. Worn out from being other than.

We are the untold heroes and we are real. 

We don’t need to dream, but we do anyway.

Vox Witness (vw)

An inch worm
a centipede
one hundred days of
war

a nickel bag
a dollar store

a disturbing
violent
creed

penny candy
millipede
a mother and
a whore

a subterranean route
out of Syria no doubt
is what the people
need

the horse fly
on baby's breath

neglected
left for death

the aristocracy of effort
is blogging through the
mud

wondering how to translate
words to save our
flesh and
blood



Katya Mills, 2014
all rights reserved

years of certain darkness

In the eyes of angels
blackpool wells
swallow the
world

years of certain darkness
marked us all
for life

years of sullen sadness
lost another
smile

archived
file

years of watching death
swiftly steal the
stage

another leading man
embroiled in his
rage

another leading lady
frozen by her
fear

years of certain darkness
they really ran
their course

right here in sunny
California
our day of perpetual
anhedonia

dis of ease and
ability

turned angels
into devils
dying

angels into
devils into
angels back
again

into angels
fallen angels

into angels
once again