"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

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Porcelain




Falling from the sky, porcelain peaces wet the ground. Scattered. Solitude seems so far from reality. I fallen there where porcelain falls. Left skid-marks on the skin. They talk of forgiveness. But how..Why..?



Some say never stop asking your self - why. Pinned down. Frozen. Nothingness approaches. Where can one find it self. In some, in some. The slight warning came from above. The sacred. Smart ones. My blood still boils. Temptations of human being. In silence. Constant. total silence. Full body contact - misunderstood. Needed. Poisoned. Forgotten. SInful by nature. By rules and with rules. For rules. About rules.




Loneliness. In boxes kept under bed. Drawers of silk. Solitude. With out signals and verbal connection. Deadly oblivion. Seeking it's master. Chopped with fire escapes. Towers of wisdom and glory. Ruined by stare cases running like opened veins through the skin. Chopped so many times. So often blade ruined down Babylon street corners. Doorways. Corridors. In wards. Always open. Jump. Stand still. Force. Quit. RUN!




Possibilities and passages. Hills. time is running out. He walks on hills. Reader is only interested in fornication and taste of cum. She cannot quit. Surrender.



They tell you to put your arms up. Raise the question. Forget the option. Smells so nice. Everywhere. Somehow. Carry the secret. My building is in the shooting district. Songs of morning glory and urine. Her cigarettes stink! I smoke too much. Can sense the sea can't see the mountains. Hidden in silver heard shaped box. And I could see it. Soaking in to the flesh. I could taste my own hunger. Divide and concur - this is what they teach you. Inject and obtain. All is possible. All is reachable. All is forsaken!



In hidden pride. In glory or the tribe lies the death of men. I scratched my nails in to your time line! History. And you just shiver. Your fear speaks volumes. In lines at grocery shops and indian junk yards. In streets of Leith so pleasantly decorated I smell your weakness. We are produced at the same factory and I have users manual. You are one peace made machine and my parts are countless. If you decide to leave I will give you back your warranty!




Good night and god bless,
Sonia Dietrich

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