pm.am dawn in america

nothing forced we 

plot course let it take us

dawn in america. we were wrong we got right

my apartment an organic

living mess like the desk of a social worker on wednesday i

tried to take flight off the screen off the paper

now i’m grounded. stay still. chill

the time we got to spendin

you were the one. i couldn’t care what they saw

the faded flags fly eyes

desert dry i could cry coffee 

for all the sleep we lost

the sunrise. the 8th wonder

of the world

#katyamills

thank these gods

these notifications surround us from

all sides chirping like new species of bird

fuk these ads between songs they

killin us. okay i 

thank these gods for you sweet

heart keep your dreams alive on

sunday. covid 19 proliferates culture

gets canceled ok good or bad

we are young. a little hot

sometimes thats all

#katyamills

notes on writing

i no longer wait to be inspired to write. one need not wait for rain, to irrigate the land. i block off time every morning to string the words together in a way that captures how i feel. might be 5 words. might be 500. keep digging, you will ultimately find water.

then i turn to some larger body of work – #wip – occupying my every day mind and heart. focus on the immediate work in progress brings me back in alignment with the gods.

notes on writing

i no longer wait to be inspired to write. one need not wait for rain, to irrigate the land. i block off time every morning to string the words together in a way that captures how i feel. might be 5 words. might be 500. keep digging, you will ultimately find water.

then i turn to some larger body of work – #wip – occupying my every day mind and heart. focus on the immediate work in progress brings me back in alignment with the gods.

the 14 twenty

your fingertips might really start pressing

playing the keys and then you know you’re telling the truth

don’t stop. let it all out. don’t answer your phone

for god’s sake don’t go near social media! keep typing

don’t censor your thoughts no matter how awful they may seem to you

they are only thoughts

 

the magic dust is the truth you are telling

people will be outraged. people will love you and hate you for it.

don’t stop! keep on. your truth is more valuable than anything else!

WIP.2020

Here’s an excerpt from my WIP (work in progress):

“The night hung heavy and winter would not wait. The days grew shorter and colder in Chicago. We haunted an apartment wedged between others on a long city block not far from Division, the four of us. The whole block seemed to shake every time a train passed by. Factory chimneys exhaling smoke, incessant sounds. What I loved about the city was how it’s so alive. There was all kinda weather coming through, winds blasting across Lake Michigan for days. Early snow subsided to rain, and all the kids on their way to school pushed gleefully through the puddles. Skyscrapers stood tall among the trees. The vertical life in Chicago in obvious contradiction to the system of streets and rails. All diversity of people caught up in all diversity of things, twenty four hours a day. Altogether it made for a life you would not wanna miss.”
– Katya Mills

the self sets the limits

the spirit and soul is shining underneath, waiting to break out of the rock that conceals it, out of darkness for us to see and believe. meanwhile the world goes on waiting for you to arise. will you ever? the tarnished lack in a rusty controlled mechanical sort of perfection with an intellectual hook demands a miraculous effort. most are pulled out of the path of life and retired, subservient to other forces, equally bad as good, fenced in by unnatural designs. oh! the self-set limits of life experience. and very well worth living and dying for!