set 4 self destruct

my life was self destruct set into slow motion

my tailor drug and drink

subgenre rebellion 

in the age of deconstruction

the undercurrent identity

for it would never be okay 

to not be who i knew 

i was

#katyamills

id.17

identity 

intentionally made public was 

for visibility not vying for 

attention

#katyamills

14

whenever they thought they was

struggling they felt back

to when they really

was

no money

no home no real

friends around

anymore

isolated by they

world the chaos in

they head

the hard water

softens when super

aware

#katyamills

broadcasting hope

if you feel like running 

around the block 4 times

like a dope

broadcasting your 2021 aura 

of hope then 

go!

you are you

don’t ever let

the world 

dictate

#katyamills

2010 tangible truismic

sometimes we are the half of life

jaw floored variety of bored like a

post-dose-nod-ona-klono-pin-wheel-spin

72 rpms back to back to back

well-placed commencement at the very end of some

ego-trip-sleepwalk-to-certain-degree-of-destination

got there with your body and realize back there

somewhere your spine fell out

drinking wine until you pass out flopped around ina

sorry omega-threesome like a caterpillar hanging out

legs

 

you check your gps for self-locus flower

stop accepting all substitutes-imposters-splenda-and-cancelled-checks

go long and selfless beyond the ego panic attacks

get the train back on track and loosen all ties. free the suspension

beyond the words so trite and truismic

here and now we conjure ourselves in flashes again and again

until we reach some static in the attic

we need not be cardboard we are

solid tangible statuesque ennui
#katyamills
from the archive
remix 2010

raspberry red

when we were kids a raspberry was a scrape you got running around rough. the kid with the biggest raspberry was honored for a warrior. i remember once when i was 8 i injured myself on purpose, jumped from a real high spot hoping i would break my leg. i ended up landing on my hands and sprained my wrist. i wanted a cast for kids to write their names on, and all i got was a sling and a bag of ice. i went on to hurt myself in decidedly dangerous ways in life. driving too fast in the rain, age 17, i hydroplaned and rolled my vw. i was known to put a cigarette out on my arm. i had a lot of one night stands with strangers. hooked up with randoms. addiction was my tried and true. i wanted to numb the shame that came of hiding and fighting my identity. that was my biggest secret. i was trying to protect myself. i ended up in jail and rehab after rehab until finally i had to face myself, take my medicine, and face the world. my lease on life was renewed.  today i have learned to let the feelings rise and fall. be true to yourself no matter what. today i like my raspberry red. i pack a peanut butter sandwich for my lunch with jam.

little bio

all the way back to ancient history, i mean my personal teenage daydream, i stayed away from the opportunities the crosswalks the celebrations the teachers the smiling faces. i could see them but i could not approach them. they were there waiting for me all those years but i harbored social anxiety and a strong feeling i did not deserve anything good in my life. so it was personal justice i exacted on myself, the better part of my twenties. then i hit the thirties and got a taste of freedom from my vices and moved to california. then the question of owning my identity arose. this would require courage and resolve. i could not conjure it up. i needed a plan and i got online and got with community and developed one.

i made a career move that fit my strengths and values. i was working so hard full-time school and job with a serious commute two hours each way. i still hadn’t put it all together, i mean, anxiety and depression and dysphoria were my lot. i had a few friends but mostly isolative. the pressures grew and i got heavy inside my head and i slipped up. years go by. you feel like all is lost. it can turn you against yourself. i was lucky to survive. i made it.

this

the insecurity of youth has passed
with its hunger for identity
and dearth of belonging

oh! to feel this much
closer to
home

journal 24.10

i am older now and not without aches and pain
and i can feel what i’ve been through in them

it’s not so bad

kinda tells me what i’m made of

origin. story

if you disentangle them
from the sweetest
songs

the roughest elements

you can fashion your
origin story from
there

and uncover who you
were

and have
become