"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

Monday, July 5, 2010

He Burned The Path and Killed the Living


When was the last time you have fallen in love? No. Not with a person. With an object. Sharp, or round. Personal. Random. Impersonated. When was the last time you could not leave the house cause the need for the object swallowed you in. I had recently. I cant resist. To powerful. Hypnotizing. Hold it in. Play it. I sit on the ground near my camouflage sofa and imagine the game of two. Wanna play?

Game is easy, I sit you stand. Time runs fast. It' a long train. Tchaikovsky is playing in one ear. Annoying local lassies in the other. Fields of yellow, green and blue. Where is the line between pleasure and humiliation. There is no such thing. Somewhere. Silently. Grey again. Sing for me. Sing the sinful song of pleasure. Isolation. Slow pulsating rhythm in the headphones. Don't spill the coffee.

He tells me to get outside my zone. Convincing that thing are in places. I have a stack of book near 2 ashtrays. Table is covered with leftovers of inhales. He is alive again. Trust for the moment. And then the reasonable part of me stops. I go back again. The cave is easy. Easy to touch. To fill. To find. I have no more words left. It's consuming me. Made a cardinal sin. Mistakes. I talk about the things one should never say. Doing what jesus told me to. He made me do it. The perfect assassination. Come here and press the charges.



Once again the pages keep turning. You imbecile. What the fuck where you thinking. Stop. Stop. Tomorrow. Intake. Alcohol runs as holly water throw the veins. To much. To late. Go away. Don't worry about... my brain is on fire. Brain is empty. Needs are at risk. Boundaries are found. Deny your identity and play by the rules. Push it out your self and all will be happy. Happiness is such a waist of words. I seen them on the corner. The creaking sound made me flip the dime. Here, in the room with the high celling I say nothing and smile.

Another cigarette another blow. Told it tight. Imagine. Close. Just don't make it worse. It's good till it lasts. Smoke cloud. Forget the future. The past was never mine. Smoking in bed is like peace of used up heaven for the sinner man. Camouflage sheets swallowing mistakes. They touch gently and with off pride. I think i love them. Labyrinth of sounds out side windows. Ants are rushing to work. Illusions. I wish. Never did. Night fall. In the beginning there was sing, in the end there is an agreement. Violence solves everything.

I need to pack. My time is up. Everything is so beautiful and folded. He is perfect. Don't believe in perfection. Skip me. Braid me. Traffic on the streets remind me of what i do not have. The house. The bed. Shopping list and perfect polished shoes. He never used to call me by the name, now it's on the plate. I see the mirrors flip. I know when red cells separate from white ones. Again. Say it! Now! Near. Come on in. Freedom is a scam they used to trick and treat the guilty one. Easy. Listen. Looking at her strikes me, who is the one under the tragedy. What was I doing. Patters to the unknown solders and striking technique. Shut up. Never again. Here comes the Jabberwocky. Tired of not knowing when. But there is a point in eternity when it is better not to know what happens next. Reached. Point. Don't want to know. Mouth is full. Sing with me. Steps on creaking floors. Old houses. Full. Trains. Stops.

Manifestations of equilibrium.
So now. I entered. See it burst. Lights out. Go back to sleep.


Good Night and god bless,
Sonia Dietrich

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