conversation with the future

on a train leaving Las Vegas

i thought to my (future) self

with all the deception in the world

who needs magic?

year of luxury

americans sedated on chocolate and pills

a soft butt of foreign jokes 

life was luxury status 

year 2049. liquid liver soak stations 

phones mobilized to do the chores 

sedentary. racist. relegated to epilogue status 

tweets regurgitated 

4 swallows

#katyamills

the past

the past lies deep in my consciousness today. like a scar it healed over but will never go away. i awakened from my nightmare by falling to my knees in prayer, after so long living without feeling the need. i was sure i was a goner. i could not awaken without faith. i came to believe. i found a grateful heart. i sought after family and true friends i had left behind. i became willing to rise early and work hard toward some peace of mind. do right over wrong and be honest. be helpful and admit when i am wrong. take what i need and not what i want. only faith can restore me. i came to know the freedom that comes by selflessness and gratitude. and the harmony that comes through fellowship.

sorrow tomorrow

you either can get past whatever you did in your past, or you cannot get past the past. today feels sorry for your tomorrows.

promise

once there was a boy named bee

upon my knee

softly telling me how rivers

did not reach the sea in the year

twenty twenty three

some were black others blue

in twenty twenty two

and none could you wash your

self in

his eyelashes fluttered

feeling me shudder

i could tell

he honestly knew

he unbuttoned my collar

i cried and hollered and then he promised

just breathe

then rolled up our sleeves so carefully

we could see those cuts on

our arms

with one finger

he crossed my lips

tenderly looking into my eyes

and

we existed quietly there

until about quarter past one

bee upon my knee

and me

i wondered if all of the darkness

 he shared

could

     ever

         be

          undone

yet i knew our

                 pain

             was

         the

same

– KatYa, 2017

young

we are young

The days run away and I cannot do anything about this, I do not understand my age. I suppose we are all very young, even the very old, and this appeases the cruel god who comes out from time to time to command us away, life changes and we are not welcome anymore…
you are done with me and i am done with you and all our messy nonsense of two thousand three hundred forty-five yesterdays. I cannot say what came over me but i remember crying when i knew i was no longer gonna be protected or saved. I was to be blooded and charged with my Appetite For Destruction and to carry all the old Lies again, in rare form; they coulda made a fine killer of me, at the academy…
what I want to say is, losing you, this was one of the saddest of neverending losses, what i wanna say is sorry. and you have no need to forgive me unless it helps you — please — i think i forgave myself but i wonder — when i hurt — thinking of all the times you told me fuck off  

before i finally did

chance is now

My future

innocent
untouched
pure

delicately woven
by my touch

i cry
to think
upon

KatYa

check

my checkered past

gave way

to chess

today

Oddity #7

An eighth day was added to the week and Gregorian calendar, without approval of the Church. This allowed the populace a seventy-two hour yawn, aka ‘seventh day stretch’, before returning to the essential five day work week. And archived the general american angst.

The State Department Store sold the new issue calendar copy out of refurbished former Sears franchises, which offered ample square footage for safe houses and the novel Homeland Security and Exchange Commission.

The HSEC was setup as a critical watchdog to oversee and protect American interest overseas, now that shares of the United States, Incorporated, sold at a slight premium to its initial public offering on the New York Stock Exchange.

The trillion plus dollars raised in this remarkable, unprecedented, scandalous public offering, spearheaded by the now defunct President Trump, Donald

(whose final veto of the critical congressional legislation set to block his party’s ‘Incorporation of the States’ initiative preceded his impeachment)

was now being issued toward the most unfortunate application of architectural mindtrust ever known to man, aka the blueprinting of a male counterpart to miss america herself, the Statue of Liberty.

The giant slab of poured concrete was already spiraling up out of the waters like a Dairy Queen soft ice cream cone, to house the new symbol of grand patriarchy ever alive and well.

Apollo, of course, was the model.
The Trump Tower affiliate, of course, had been jettisoned.

But plans to use the hollow carbon fiber globe situated firmly within Apollo’s head of reinforced steel, for home offices for the New Chairman of the Board and CEO of the United States, Inc.

(and not necessarily the President)

were subpoenaed by the Justice Department, and were now being relentlessly scrutinized by the tired eyes of the Attorney General, with the Supreme Court perched precariously over his shoulder, overlooking the whole sordid affair.

Meanwhile, an Pan-Euro-Middle-Asian Investment Cabinet of whose who, had been vetted atop the tallest edifice in Dubai, and was now casting its first votes under a mirrored ceiling, over pi

nk champagne on ice,  to determine what  would  really happen across the Atlantic.

Sitting at the head of this VIP table of leaded glass with platinum trim of inlaid pearl, was none other than the greatest surprise of the evening, most touching to all… the prime beneficiary of all global casino holdings and friend to all four seasons, fair women and men.

Oddity #4

The atmosphere got crushed by populated space. Entities no longer burned to dust across the border.

Writing was impossible under these conditions. How to breathe again trumped the elements of style. How would i survive?

Outer space border patrol job markets grew exponentially. The highest paid among them was space traffic defense.

This matched my abilities perfectly, having troubled my parents for quarters throughout the early eighties, to play the arcade staple: Asteroids.