Machine work

Dear Princess and King and the holy spirit,

They made me think it's not a game, somehow I believed them, it's lie. A mischief. There is someone inside the rule book. The posed inner evil that will hunt you till the rest of the days.

Doctors prescription doesn't work, the feeling is overwhelming. Moments. Stones do not move. to come to this after all this year. Protect your enemies. They will pay back. I'm obsessed with paper. The brushes do not move. Canvases stay still as an army with out a Captain. Brave knight is poisoned. Make him come back. I never quite understood what makes the rule book work.

What price are you willing to pay? The naivety and banality are going side by side. Sifting, the air is shifting the image. How come we stand still as a broken sow mill? Question marks and punctuations try to dismember the leader. I hear the battle sirens, it's all around the place. Why is it getting in a way, no answers are so easy to achieve. Glock 17 has reached the level of desperation.

Will this history participate in future no one knows. The only answer is simple - the time will come. Obsessions, passions, fascination, fake illusions, desperation's, lust, contamination, inspirations, motivations, fluid exchange within seconds.

We had a single solution, the baler was here with in a seconds before the truth risen. All that was told is forbidden. We entered the new zone. The final score is zero.


Good Night,
Dietrich