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
Tag Archives: katya
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
we locked eyes in a dream
we locked eyes in a dream we
locked eyes and upon awakening it seemed
this dream was no longer a dream
why would you hunt me?
my love it can kill you
on contact
#katyamills
the relatively unknown
at home
facing the faces of holiday cheer
the relatively unknown
dress and dial down fear
with hopes
4 a fearless new year
#katyamills
loner
they called you a loner they
thought of you
weak
every day of the week god
given to seek
solitude
made mainstream look
shady
#katyamills
pen.cil
took the words from the margins
boiled them down and drank they
essence. lead from the pencil
kinda killed but worth every
swallow #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.
glam.
used to be hotels and nightclubs
and bars
concerts and restaurants
shots of light and whisky in the dark
now i find the glam
in silent early mornings cooking
coffee
ona stove
K IS SILENT 