expiration date. sadness

one day you woke up feeling lighter. this was different. this was hope. it made no sense and could not be denied. the following day it was gone. the light was shining and the birds were singing but all you saw and heard was dead again. what stood out for you now was the recollection of yesterday’s hope, wanting another taste of that. so you got out of bed a little earlier. you saw the slightest smile at the edges of your lips in the mirror. you were able to sing some morose song by the Cure in your head.


– Katya Mills, 2019

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frequency

Usually if i am feeling hurt, i want to hurt back. there have been stressful times in my life where i reacted and acted on my hurt feelings.

Patterns take shape and repeat.

These occasions, whatever the frequency, usually result in two feeling hurt, rather than one. and played out across the web of lives and feelings, we find we are all hurt a little in the end.

Patterns take shape and repeat.

Then the madness of friends or loved ones or just two beings facing off by accident or intention, looks on a chart of frequency of hurt, amplified.

Patterns take shape and repeat.

Because not only do i hurt myself anytime i exercise hurt upon another, but often another lashes back again, and the hurt goes deeper, and vulnerabilities begin to show, and we are hurting both selfsame and other.

Patterns take shape and repeat.

In retrospect, we see the violence inherent in such situations. and hopefully we look to find conscious ways to reduce hurt in our lives, not alone but together.

See the conscious ways?
See the first aid application on feelings? See the system? How we can do this, together?

See the choices.
Feel the freedom.
Hold the hope
together.

forever stamp our hearts

I could only hope now the spirit would work through me, to communicate the occasion of my life to the world I called my home. Proprioceptively. Indelibly. This hope, alone, was proof that I existed. Lord knows an all points bulletin inquiry had been submitted. A missing persons report turned up nothing. The first 48 hours had passed without a trace. And many 24 hours more. Until I was all but forgotten by my own flesh and blood. Long, long ago.

Sadly, I failed to pull a Houdini. Found myself locked within the walls of my own invention. Cooled and conditioned and stored. Downloaded myself on to some standard thumb drive. Hitchhiked my way through obscure constellations. Abstracted myself on a concrete canvas. Canvassed myself to an unknown cause. Freezer burn soon permeated my experience of myself. I got lost in my own rolodex. The librarian indexed me somewhere between z and a. I became an asterisk without a footnote. An aster-risk to the whole federation.

Then, suddenly, harmless to myself and others. Disambiguated. Inanimate for consecutive years…

then, suddenly, released back into the stream of consciousness, which converged with all the other datastreams to form some packed coaxial cable of infinite beats per minute into the teeming, elemental, ocean of life. Sulfate. 

The iron man and maiden had taken their toll on us all.We swam, ran and cycled through the seasons. Whatever would keep us above baseline. Heartlessness in triple digit heat scorched the soul. Prana, the breath, had been weakened by years of celebrity chain-smoking, bequeathed to the masses. We waited around, shiftless and innumerable, for some unrequited missive to forever stamp our hearts…

somewhere between hope and faith

for what seemed like the same amount of time. 

-Katya 08/13