"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. Öijer

Friday, September 20, 2013

Me I Am Not



Lets reminisce, while I take the dagger out. Lets laugh
and remember… THEM! The glorious. Mighty. Superior. 

Lets reminisce. 

While I try and find the psychotic needle. Dug deep. Too little. Too close!
Could sing it to you. Rings became too loose. Big. Nails slip off, exposed meat. Too sensitive. Nothing comes, goes. Stays the same. Nothings changes. I am touched... 


While listening to the same show outside the window, fog finely climbs inside. Outside murmur.
Heart rate. Applause. Again. Again... AGAIN! Putting self though rollercoasters. Guard all - too settle. And so goes the hate. Me I Am Not!


Integrity. The holy hole one dares not to fall. But must. Step over self. Realize. Find. 23:23. I step. A stone have moved. No longer am I one. I am many. For concrete had melted. I can see. Nothing ever changed. Same man behind the glass. I am many. As Me I Am Not!

 

Inevitably. Fear chases horror. Fragile yet stronger. The cliché tells truth. Not life living. Living. I hope you do it strong, light and long. Live. Life.
Me I Am NOT!

Smell of latex natural feel. Pretence desperation in minor. Honesty. All day nothing, I ate your - chilly. Not waking up - not falling asleep.
Hand. Hands bend back. Backwards!
What a stupid thing to DO. Just a window in a window. Lit. Nothing more. Shadows of bodies… Synthetic sheets. Heat. Heart. White. Whore. Elite.

 

Just window in a window. Asinine. All of a sudden everybody had a manifesto. What a shame. All looked so promising.  Waiting for breakfast.

Someone is in/on the menu.

It seems insanity has a very silent leaping steps. It approaches in moments of absolute procrastination and orgasms. Want to be real. Can smell you on my hands. Hair. Cotton swirls float barely touching the sidewalk.  

 

Bourgeoisie discuses dying children. Black iron railing seems distant. Contrasted. Glued on. Stuck. Hallway carpet no longer resemble the original sea blue colour. Electricity that supports building alarm system glares and hums with gentle noise. I am almost fainting. 
There is nothing else to give.


 

Let's reminisce.
Let
Us
Reminisce 
///
Remember!








Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder,
Sonia Dietrich

All images are copyright by Sonia Dietrich