immune

The attacking poison would pay dearly. 
She activated her immune response via
subtle movements, CNS defined. 

The battlefield she oversaw,
 expanded over time.

The poison wept in amber waves of  
venom tears, for hours (felt like years). 

For fallen was to be its fate. 
And stained, the back, with civil war. 
Her flesh inscribed and sore.

The platelet ranks advanced some more. 
Expounding all the while, the triumphant cries of war. 
She counted blood cells to her sleep, 
to battle, single file.

The morning came all fog and wet,
 in sheets white where she lay. 
She felt dissension in the ranks, 
cerebral moored in clay.

The immune victorious had taken ground,
 far beyond her reach. 
She could not stop the growing fervor
now burning up her breast. 
Far beyond good and evil, 
comme Nietzsche.

She wrapped her all in white flag sheets,
 to call off her directive.
In streaks red across the spine and limbs, 
her system, unselective. 

The overcompensate immune, 
in hanging heat of noon.

She had to rise above the madness, 
so summoned the divine.
Her salve was god, prayer and rest. 
And irrigation, calamine. 

fire

be careful
when
playing
with words

you
might
    hurt
  some
   one

vas deferens. carried away.

that's a lie
a contraction
predicated by
a lie

a contradiction
fighting
my own
diction

maybe me
poet
wanna
be

should go to get inspired
to the sea
bring jack kerouac
big sur
small wonder
he fell to his death
on the rocks

that's a lie
on the rocks
that's drunk
to the teeth
that's tight
constricted

predictable
something easily
predicted

the one who 'plays'
with words

added to a
peurile
penile
vaginal
flow

masturbatory
that's a lie
'cause after you're done?

find yourself
lonesome
exposed
in the sun

the milky substance
the texture
the scent
this is true

indeed
on paper
true

don't let them say adam
don't let them say eve
don't let them say loins
the butcher turns
blue

write away
right away
while the world outside
waits

that's a lie
Kafka knew
burned all his books


that's a lie plus a
lie plus size
sky

add the earth
let half the wildlife
die

the spermozoa
the egg the
vas deferens

this is true
cause
we all
get
carried
away

don't say white
don't say black
say fifty shades of grey

gray
grey
over
play

bundle it up
under your arm
a mess of sticks
the faggots
for kindle

take them together
walk them out
to the world

watch the pieces drop out
behind you

see yourself in them
the dropouts

horizontal
vertical
thrust
thrust
open
hearted
come
shot

true

© Katya Mills, 2014

Heart Holds A Vacancy

(penned in darker times, 2011)

the Sea
her depths grow out from green
from green to royal blue
Where
all our lies get hot
get salty
Liquidate
into butter
Congeal
into residue
residual
of which


Constitutes the laundry list
of lies
uncommon
picked for
pulled for


Juice
Energy
Extraction


By decree of part-sentients
(part-not)
sworn to secrecy


Whose vows have been
exacted
spoken
logged
attributed
catalogued




the precise configurement
figured
configured
drawn off the slight balance of
good will
accounted

for


then left
here in this courtyard
where touched
touched by the elements

Produce a serum
bottled
capped
guarded
two men to a vial


There a discordance
a shaking of foundations
if the color hits the litmus test
and meets other requirements unknown
(you can tell by the sound)


a hollow tone


The amplification
of which
discards
shucks
throws off
any and all
antagonist untruths


(left brown and dyscolored in the foamy froth)


The purified potion
then drained
hits a shade resembles
goth


The scientists stand
satiate
fatigued
admiring
edge of tide pool...


Truth!
Taken from the scene
from the light
double encrypted
left inaccessible
walled off


Truth!
Like pores
touched by witch hazel
locked behind skin
sealed from the world
and her sin


Truth!
Language is lost
in the crowd
of the avowed



Truth!
Eyes tell of suffering
naked like ankles
bit by geese
scraped on thorns
bleeding until clotted
sometimes

Truth!
found
retrieved then
hidden
until she may be
cloned
replicated



For now
we are left with the same old
same old
caked makeup
meet low-grade rubber


wall ball material
circa '79


smoke trails and
salvage yards

highways
bits of plastic
bits of plaster


just another
man-made disaster


For now
we are left with our scars
on water
steady boiling
until poached


For now


A double-breasted
back-stabbing
On Front Street
by the boardwalk


The perp
vanishes
in a fog of Chat
Room
Twitter

The forensics team drinks coffee
the coffee
sure is bitter


For now
the lies proliferate
canvass our nation


gas consumption fever!
TV vacation!


What once was compromise
now has
no promise


each for his own
all or none
mentality


Long island teas comped
on a corporate spread
for the so-called VIPS
for the pros


Young runaways
expose thighs
to highball bids
much too low...


Is this not enough
exploitation
and suffering?
to pry open
the safe
where collective truths
are stashed?


Until then I will hold
for all the good
people


a vacancy
in my heart
unparalleled...


a love enduring
unequalled
uncommon
and
true


from me
to you

eyes

my eyes were once innocent
now they are hard 
full of what they saw
on these city streets

my eyes were once innocent
then full of confusion

my eyes were confused
angry and young
and scared

my eyes
they were scared
now they are hard
like these city streets

my eyes
they are hard
but they soften
my eyes

my eyes
  they soften
    around truth

tween age emoticon

tween age emoticon
 by Katya Mills

Ima tween age
emoticon
Wearing hand me up
celeron
On my wristwatch laptop
son

Gotta date to comic
con
With my teenage
chaperone
Eating grandmas
toblerone

ima tween age
emoticon
slush rush
succubus

dreamin x game
junkie

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.