the best

she was worrying about whether or not he would make a good father especially given that it wasn’t his son. she thought he was the right type because he talked well like someone who was educated and he was. he had a degree. he could get all kinds of jobs and make them all kinds of money so she wouldn’t have to bend over backward sewing buttons on thrift store clothes before walking the kid to school. yes, she thought, he could become a classic sorta breadwinner if it weren’t for that other thing in the way right now. but they was young, he was young and still needed some encouragement in the right direction. she could provide it but she hadn’t and she better start soon. but it was hard because when he got home from work he was usually pretty keyed up and wanted to relax. and she had the prescription pills and felt bad or like she wanted to help and gave him one he washed down with a beer to relax. what harm? it’s not like one turned into two or two into three. not with him. maybe her. god she was pregnant and if the daddy was who she thought it was, he was no good. she didn’t even want to know because his knowing might mean he might want to get involved in all the wrong ways. file for custody just because he hated her guts and didn’t want her happy? with child. no. she didn’t want to know. best thing for her. best thing for the baby. move on and get with a good kind of guy who could really be supportive and fuck the rest. if she couldn’t find one of those, i mean, if he wasn’t the one either, then hell, she could just raise the kid herself. plenty of women did it. even her friend Donna. she was exhausted with rings under her eyes by now, looking like she aged ten years, but still she was doing it. i guess you gotta let go of yourself, your pride, your vanity, and just be the best mom. she knew she could do that. her modeling career never exactly took off and she hated the industry. all the scumbags who offered photoshoots then never paid what they promised they would. demanding the negatives and getting the run around, or worse, being called a bitch a thousand times for asking. fuck all that. she was gonna focus on being the best.    #katyamills

silhouette conducere

1898. Vienna 

the great composer Mahler upon the stage 

inhabiting the many forms…

a bull fighter. a teacher giving 

lessons. a thief backing away 

a thinker. a man lost in cups 

a sorcerer aligning the stars 

an emotion laid bare by 

the sun

#katyamills

update

i got a promotion this week — Clinical Director — at tpcp.org… excited to make a greater impact for our community … listening and speaking from the heart … helping my team of outpatient case workers support our people out in South Natomas and North Highlands … life is more and more challenging on the streets … what with mental illness and socioeconomic challenges … cultural/racial injustices. i ask myself every day: what more can i do to help? at least i have a small platform and some skills to offer. 8 years clean off the hard stuff. what with the poetry, the books, my friends, my work, life keeps getting more and more exciting. planning to self-publish my first book of poetry, so far about 92 poems deep. i appreciate all of you here, on this our WordPress community. – k

ghostofgreeneyes

ona street a cat

confronts me the ghost

of green 

eyes

came up crying

talking to me 

like you felt

my pain

you did

know how to hiss

forgot how to

purr

i got some crumbs

for you and some

time. get down

low

crying

ghost of green

eyes. here

i remember i

was not allowed 

to

#katyamills

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.