"Behind every system, behind every rule stands a corpse and laughs. You can't tell me who I should sleep with. I don't work for wages. My life is a revolution... My life is a beautiful life... What you call freedom, I call waste... I will continue to love my own voice. If everyone becomes me, everything will collapse."

Bruno K. Ă–ijer

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Missing Slipper



There was a journey. I felt every inch of it. one shoe slipped. I took the chance. I want to stay.

Waiving. Looking for perfection inside somewhere. I felt the need to kill my head. To take it off. To switch it. To make it stop. stop. Stop!

So childish, we are moving and not going anywhere. Loosing is the game i don't want to play. Not now. Had to many cups of that tea. Shut it! Light's IN. Put it in and shut-up! I see everything throw some fucked-up prism. For no reason what so ever. Go out. Go in. Go way. Go there. Go here.


Poison. Had too much of it. To little. To fast. I know. I know we need to have some balance. Take the pill. Take it. NOW!


Waiting to work. For it to come to some thing that might happen. SHUT. this is the reason. THis is the answer. This is manic. Again again gain. Cant stop. I had so many possibilities. So many ways and patters. Empty empty container of useless and uncured thoughts.

Understanding is useless. thoughts are useless. being is useless. writing is useless. this country is useless, my country is useless, we are useless.

I'm high. It finely kicked in. Warm and cosy like in cotton. Don't have much to say....just stop writing you idiot. Just let this laptop go. Just leave it, just stop. Will. i do. i ..... my mind keeps slipping away.


Yellow ....yellow yellow walls. I can write, work, sleep is the only answer. Tons of water went down my hair. re-tipe. re-chek. connect. She sings about ghosts. and really sun is getting in and out. Dimming on my toes. one pair of slippers to share.

Missed my morning. Memories is a bitch. no eating. forgetting the moments in and out. something is not rite here. Like an irresistible joke. hate it.


Go woman. Check the levels of the inconvenience. Go and don't forget for to breath. We will be back. 10 seconds of heaven. This all is a huge lie. This was never the place. There was never an answer. There was never a point - he was never the answer!


That thing took advantage of my head. it wanted me to surrender. It wanted me all the possible ways. It wanted me chewed up. With no pulse. With tired hands. With ... walk away, walk pass me. This suburban little town is the biggest whore i have ever seen. It's all sold-out to the regime. The all are like little chickens from the same fucked up factory. Having an invader in black. Red lipstick never lies. You can hunt me dow, brain wash my head, trow away all the records - but red lips will stay. They are braided in. They will never go. This a world number ZERO!


What a fun for me - the watcher. Be able to feel every frightened cell of the chickens. tweet tweet. HAHA! I'm a woman - HEAR ME ROAR! There are few of us here. We do not know each other, but feel the presence. You could pick us by the way we walk. By the smell of our old 40-ties perfume. By the swastikas on the black coat or daggers in the head. Long tight black jeans witch melts in the sun. By the smell of cigarettes on the fingers. By hatred and unconditional sarcasm in the look. By the seamy smile we wear from day to day. By tons of coffee we are able to drink even if it's light fall. By the way we sit in your perky little coffee shop. By the way we order wine in the morning. By the lines in the arms. By every single second you feel uncomfortable when we are near you. By the wonderful long lasting sex we have and you are afraid even to think about. By the lines from last night bondage on the wrists. By the hypnotic stare in your little head. We know what you think. We know what you want. We know what you do. We know what you dream about when you are alone of with your boring partner in your big big cold bed. We know....!





So dream you little dream of us in your hypocrite church.. Dream and pray to your corps on the cross, that one day, for just an hour you could be one of us. But don't forget the rule:


If you want that, you will sell your self to us. And we will spread your ashes on your mornings scrambled eggs.



Good night,

Dietrich

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