eat cash

we drink coffee
we eat cash
we dine
we dash!

elevators in my dreams

wait for us

my family

i try to coax them

off the cold concrete

where we stand

my family

i know up there

in the white paint sky

there is forgiveness

my family

there is renewed love

my family

we can go there

into the white paint sky

above which

colors

 

 

email me. to death

Hi. We met and talked for ten random minutes. We traded emails, remember? I convinced you we had something in common.

Your intuition told you the digits should remain inaccessible.

Now, months later, I am slow and steady emailing you to death.

This is my fantasy. To know you, with or without your consent. Can you blame me?

Who wouldn’t want to know a girl with such long legs and eyelashes, perfect teeth and intuition?

selfie made millionaire

ima
selfie-made
millionaire

i love the way
you do my
hair

white house. reality

“Chipotle. Because the White House is not walking distance from reality.” – Katya©2014

sex. ex

sex
with her
ex

was
somehow
better
than the
nex

find me
     running
up and
down your
fretboard

fingering you

find me
skating cross your last
and tangled
nerve

behold the super
glue sticks my
heart to
you

pull us apart
leaves
yellowed tendons
residue

shine. honey shine

Stevie: ompfg !
Katya: wtfmysbtm ?

Translation:
S: Oh my possibly fictitious god !
K:What the fuck made you so brilliant this morning ?

Alchemical synthesis:
To all sentient beings out there and that means YOU

oh my god!
today
here and now
we are brilliant!
we are light!
divine

shine
honey
shine!

destination politics

i feel sorry for anyone who says you are going to hell or heaven awaits us. Where is this far distant place? to locate oneself at some point in the future? I call this destination politics, and I copyright it NOW. I live here, now. My world I create as I go along. So does anybody. Go back and look at your life. The choices you had. Anywhere on the timeline. You will see you created your life as it stands. You will see how you could not predict your own future. Except in terms of your attitude toward life. I predict my future, in terms of my effort. And my effort exists only right now, as I type.

Attempted novelist.

Attempted social worker.

Attempted empath.

Attempted poet.

Heaven or hell? These culturally impoverished symbols stand out to me, moment to moment. Am i in pain? To what extent? Do I feel good about myself. How so? What I am finding is it all correlates to my efforts. My efforts to be sincere, and think outside of my self. My efforts to exercise and share my talents, without fear of reprisal, without demanding any return on my investment of time and energy. Having faith that all will be provided me. When I live there, I guess you could call this heaven. The way I see it, this is never a place to go, this is a place to be. 

When I am so self-consumed or in fear or inaction, living in patterned recollections of situations which did not go my way, living in expectation of what’s to come, playing destination politics with other people and myself… when I demand and control my way around the place… This is some hell. 

And religion has nothing to do with it. 

And religion has nothing to do with it.

And religion has nothing to do with it. 

 

 

 

sneaker pimp. fat lace

Social media. A terrible lie. A bolt of lightning through a phone with a sigh. Face to face. All over the place. Sold by and by to sneaker pimps and fat lace.