Liberating Concession
I am too much
decibels in syllables of information!
One dares not
fall. In front off just behind. Can not - NOT be. Baring skin. Gently. Who is
one talking to. At night so tainted. Kill. In. The parallel motion. Who do you
see – in front off. Off - skin. Vomit, holy like the water that cleansed me.
Bare self. Not barring but not yet barren.. Buried you did not. Touch someone.
Outside the box when one puts ones body in punishment. I could not. Not – BE.
Flashing screens. Devil inside. On. Side. Other side. Sweaty dreams and terrors
of consumption. Forget. Forget the night. Forgive the momentum. SoulFULLy!
Track me! Get inside. Find strings attached to unborn. What is this sound
about. No samples. Of life. Irritant. Irresistible, god.
One off one
inside. On. On top. Inside the building. Crossroads. Complicated conviction.
Not gathered. Killer king.
Almost parasitic.
Slightly. Poisonous. Watching her give birth. You knew. Did you – do you. I do
NOT. I do. Do I? Not knowingly. Remembering. Imagining. Thinking how was it.
How it would be. How it “looks like”.
Poisonous
concession. Pretence
dignity presented marginally through a repetitive patter
of communication. You had it all. So easy and sweet is the juice of ambrosia
one can posses on daily basis with reassurances not too wilful. I solute you.
Watching.
Every second watching. Passing. Back and forth, watching. You! Construction. Projecting. Constantly. Back
and forth. You. I solute in decibels. Perhaps to often. To tainted. Where is
the light. Swollen. Frozen but alive. Lively. Living. Infused. Influence. Not
touching. Know you see. Remember. Relive. Her in the light of hospital
whiteness. Giving the continuance of bloodline and surname. Not my bed. Body.
Not! Why are you dong it, this. One asked. In anguish. Slightly paranoid.
Can’t stop. Not today. But, perhaps. Tomorrow. I would. Could. Somehow. Where
is the image. Imagine… IMAGE!
That
one puts in every congener. Like an icon. Not to forget. But remember. My ceiling has gaps and cracks. Borderlines. Passports. Appointments and maps for 2nd of
December. Stability. Being on track of monitoring and talking heads with pre-recorded massages. Of kindness. Love. Compassion. You will be fine.
Thank
you.
I
clinch my little fist to ram it in the cavities - unspoken. Looking how far one can bend. Giving up the
spine. Happiness. So prolonged the chemical imbalance. The casualties.
Political. Explain me how you use your words. Meanings… Are you listening to the pulse that is hidden
the underground conceptual hypocrisy.
Gender stereotypes. Have you seen the
dancing Queen.
Good night and god bless,
Queen Of Disorder,
Sonia Dietrich
All images are copyright of Sonia Dietrich