jaded as jade. revisited.

‘Jaded as Jade’

by Katya Mills

 

 

There i was…

 

Headed out from my apartment on foot

Cheap walmart moccassins

Expose my toes

Dressed to kill fashion

 

With blood on my arms

Where my kittens attacked me

While sleeping off a one night stand

With my pen

 

There i was…

 

A young american

Single white female

Contemporary genXer

 

Using animated semi-fiction

to report

the hideous truths

could never be received

by the culture

embedded within

them

 

There i was…

 

Bicycle framed on my shoulder

Takin’ myself too seriously

And then some

All the way down the

Stairway to the

Street…

 

 

Tryin’ for light-hearted

All through the morning

 

Highlighted strands of hair

Fallin’ out behind my fuji feather

Lickin’ the base of my neck like

Blonde flames

 

Under the influence of anti-gravity

In the dark and baby blue of the dawn

 

There i was…

 

Down the street after dawn

Dealing with all the personalities of the world in a single room…

And then some

 

Tolerating as best i could tolerate

Day #5 without a cigarette

 

My own personality, the most difficult and least refreshing of them all

Splitting hairs with split personalities

Spitting in the wind

Jaded as jade

 

There i was…

 

Banana fucking split!

Upright on my bike

Riding back home

Five miles of

Legs and no

Hands

 

Praying i might take a dive on the railroad tracks

Just so i could feel something

Different

 

Split ends and all

my hair falling back ‘gainst

gravity to lick my

neck in the

wake of

me

 

There i was…

 

With the sinking depression that clung to my soul, all of my life

Sinking back into my pain, as the burning sun rose silently over my head

In central california

 

Here i am…

 

Split ends and all

In the wake of me

 

Without shade

Praying for a miracle

 

Jaded as

Jade

Rolling allostasis -iv)

She was in her twenties, when she surfaced from the midsection of an iceberg, the frozen contents of some formerly fluid collective subconscious experience. In the middle of nowhere, mind you. A slow drip of unhappening. Congealed into living memories (consistency of molasses).  So she thawed from her heart out, and the ice around her began to soften in her light and heat, and collect supine at her feet. Aqua devotion. If water had hands… then prayer beneath her dry eyes. So rare did this sorta manifestation occur. The glaciers melt in their natural way before her. And she takes her damn time. You don’t hurry a glacier. You age it, like wine. Or wait for her to melt, to reference empirical evidence of global warming. Melting butter at room temperature. She never left the kitchen table. Painting her daily bread. Turning and turning yellow over time with the wallpaper. Gotta get worse before she gets better. Baby blue with white flowers, soft and malleable. Almost vulnerable, fallible – almost human again. As she wishes. As they want her. Sorry says the fight inside her, delivering the roundhouse Queen Anne Victorian style. Round one…TKO. From a frozen warrior #2 asana. Feel the heat. Sauna.

by Katya Mills, 2013

Creative Commons Licensed

published @ http://www.katyamills.com