k reads 'invisible impenetrable transparent nonextant wall'

original creative writing & spoken word 

by Katya Mills

'invisible impenetrable transparent nonextant wall'
part -i

With the profound global defrag project underway…polaroids drop and flip over and over and over scattered out over a small piece of arab sky like confetti at a ticker tape parade, photos of women in the sunlight of the new dawn of some new Democracy Operating System. Peel back the material like a girl on her way to wearing different colored socks under different sized flats kicking out desert sand against the aimless hungry avarice of rats.

The future is enveloped in a mist. This much is clear. That much is breathed on fogged over passed by prone to blindness and rage. Turn the page. I wonder, do you feel fairly credited for your vast impact on the domestic stage?

One to another and another between us, any of us,all of us, out and in relationship with ourselves, our bank accounts, our phones synched with our laptops and our kindles lighting up in happy togetherness, in a information cloud, skyped out and G-tricked suspension…where is the time leftover for real sentient human contact? Maybe a hug here and a kiss there, but how many a day where you really stop and mean it? hug large? kiss and kiss again? lie down and look into eyes? Wait, adobe needs an update. Cc cleaner needs to clean. Malware may be near.

In this new techno speeding, natural disaster breeding, freedom by facebook (or seeming) type world, has eye to eye human face to face contact been devalued like the dollar? I suppose we might begin to get a little scared about full social schedules. All that work to get dressed, transport, and perform the slightly awkward machinations of truly American USA kind of confused melting pot talk about nothing between meals and talk alot. So many cultures to reckon with, downloading names and faces and deleting the browsing history after every event. Only to reboot a week later. Another weak flyer marketed event, corporate. Yes, its catered.

The wrists are held out in front of you me us them… the bare pale small long wrists facing up with longing. Here we stand in our your their belonging. Yet without a home, us, without anything much more than an entitled titled costly human drone zone? Check your real estate! What do you really come close to, what do I? who am I to know you to know we to know myself and the world?