"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

Sunday, March 27, 2011

A story from the Basement

In the basement of the formaldehyde jars and disintegrating curtains. There lied a body. In the corner of the main room with tied up hands and body in bondage. It was still and barely breathing. The master had its go. My heels where unsteady on the surface of an old concrete floors and she was squealing, crying and begging for it to end. She was reaching for my cross and begging to hold it.

She never had a chance. No forgiveness. No words. No contact.

Her flesh turned red and blue. She started to smell. The sweat was covering the black leather “stool”. The desperation was so overwhelmingly inviting. The way she tossed and turned on the black leather with tears in her eyes. The way ropes skunked deeper in to her flash. The way she reached out for the cross. The way body was getting heavier and heavier. The way she begged. The desperate, reaching out sweaty palm.
There was no turning back. There was no way out.

Even when stop means stop. There is always a way around it. Tide up and crying she was given a chance to rest. I was a hunter, and she was my victim. The eyes where full of surrender and pain. Oh, how she wept. How she begged. How she clutched her finders in the leather. I watched. He punished.
She thought there will be comfort. That her beloved Jesus would come off the cross attached to my rosary and save her. What a stupid little cunt. When she said yes – we said kneel. And from that point on, she was no longer a person. She was . . .
The rush from her struggle was manically tasty. I washed my hands. Applied fresh red lipstick and tasted the fresh nicotine that was licking my lungs.

And in the end off it all, Edinburgh was asleep and basement was locked once again.

Good night and god bless,
Sonia Dietrich

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Hide and Seek

Once upon a time there lived an evil monster. He fed on virgin blood, tho not too keen on virginity. Like a cheap whore he promised cure and passion. Vibrations and cum signals. Dirty pictures and fantasies warped around controlled substances. Don't be scared little Alice. Patient. . . Head is exploding. Pulse is between 110 and 95. Mind is playing hide and seek. Waiting. Counting beats of the clock.

You see, all the thing in life that are killing us, are the things that we can’t let go off. Ladies and Gentleman - we are in love with the shit. We eat it. We sleep in it. We have in on stage, in the TV, in the classroom, on the news. In the diner with the morning newspaper and cup of fresh holy. In computer screens, in banks we count it. In hospitals we treat it then eat it back words. And there is no fetish to that. Just the representation of the thing we call "life"!

They cure it with religion and angels. With prescription and confessions. But why cure? Watch the fairy dancing in 30£ shoes and dirty dress, is she what you want? I will buy her for you. So you can put her in the box under you bed. She will work on the table, under table, in shower, in the closet, kitchen. No placement preferences and no batteries needed. Lasts at least for 4 year. She needs no insurance and eats reasonable amount of food. I like to play. She likes to watch. Let's play hide and seek.

So here we have the role of human nature. We have different scenarios and people playing all together for a reason unknown. The healing places and the outcome of it. I am undone. In the middle of the group with water running down my face. Their god is running after me. Tho it is not the god that put down claws into the flesh. Kill all the living to safe the dead!

You see me, dear enemy - I can see you in the mirror. Your smile is a smile of a traitor. I will kill you and give birth to the other one. Warning - aggressive manic woman on board. Count your fingers: one too - one too. Yes right - now stick them down your throat and sequel for me! Humpty-dumpty sure did fall of his wall, so now my dear you can step on him and see how far you can get. Watch him suck the heel of justice. No regrets!

Time. The simple remedy for the wasted. High on pills and soul leaked morphine - we walk in line. Sky is violet and ground is white. Like the cocaine you forgot to bring to the ward. We sleep on time and puke on time. We shit on time and pray on time. We eat on time and talk on time. We "live" on time, Diagnostically - a bitch with a benefit. And what about you?

If you sell your body you’re a whore - if you sell your brain you’re a traitor! There is nothing more to it. My fairies fuck angels with dildos. And doll parts sparkle from fresh golden star shower. This game of hide and seek is pre-ruled like the last square that makes one the Queen. Air stinks of burned off pink feathers and this wonderland is warped in rubber. At the pearly gated, horseman of the cunt apocalypse are dealing angel dust by the fair-trade rate. Are you ready? Cause we are waiting for you!

Good night and god bless,
Sonia Dietrich