Critical Theory of Self

/in/ 

Holographic flashbacks. Too familiar. Distant. Something is about to happen. Gain roles depending on day and room temperature. Non compromising praise business. Happiness in game of dependencies based on ratings. I like bad ideas. Follow thought. Reading charts. Feel the base line. Heat. Matching shades. Metamorphosis. Made house into joyride residence. Saved the ring. Inheritance. Facing 4 walls. Challenge your imagination. Dance with little dots in your head. Test lines. Can tell what you had for breakfast. Beat in. Line out. I work well at night. Feed the animals. Project your artistic expression. Scaring the outline remarks. You are chaos they say. No blood sacrifice. Free fall. Take no prisoners. Eyes closed. Tender vibrations. Connected. Suddenly. Stay. 

O/pe/N

Look at fingers. Almost alive. Separate entity. Crawling on their own. See them as they play with air, communicating messages. Wonder how do they feel and what they think while attached to my body. Body as a whole is an interesting and complex paradox. As numeral patters, it all makes sense in the distance. Paints picture in gaps of white between the black. Ink. Haunting entity. Breaks in skin and swirls of markings. Hair and red inflamed patches. What is violence to other if not violence to self. Subconscious is peering through. See images, pictures moving in the distance eyes closed. Critical theory. Of self. Survey being. They say likeable. I pause in the gaps of their air intake. Watching movement. Wondering who and how defines the pleasure of mortality.

. J u S t l E t g O .

L I F e  / L I v E  =  L I V e D

L i V e L i F E 

Touch bones in hidden places. Inside mind that radiates heat and florescent lighting. Some paragraphs no one reads. Show no sings. Occupy mind, keep busy. Stay… Moving. Never surrender. Not a toy. They say they know. Cover up. Trains on tracks inside the veins. Swallow, overpopulate. Make markings known. Pierce billboards. Some things are not for recognition. Taste the rainbow. Has it all. Wondrous idealism. Hate in 3 variations of light. I dance. Never there. Can become poisonous. In case of emergency follow the safety regulations and light strip markings. Light glitter shimmer on the chest. Soft skin. Corner of the lip. Spoiled flesh. 

Slow breathing. Without advertisement. Someone is always buying. Thats how the table is set, with placement mats, swan napkins and variations of forks to knifes. Salt washing it away. Observation mode. Am towards pm conundrum. Low beat. Listening to inner voices while placing invoice. What are you selling off today? Fuck Cinderella. She snorts too much. Dick worshipping fun fest. Ride. No snitching. Tape over your identity. Dry clean yesterday’s stains and walk in slow motion. Hypnosis. Obedience. Violent friction. You excite me. Sometimes the best thing you can do is dislocate your current placement. If I could I would VPN self to oblivion. Watching fire dance. There is a rhythm to it. Each word combusted with motion. Pouring drips of poison. Entertain my astral projection.

Multifunctional pick of the week. Hologram two. There is no shame in addiction to perfection. Wrists hurt. It’s that season of the wicked. Too far, not deep enough. We observe disappointment in attachment theory. Waking on the flattened surfaces. Putting needles thought the skin. Adrenaline rush, ink. Meditate. Cleansing experience. Ritualistic joy. Sitting curled in a perfect circle. Recounting steps, weigh-in last intake. Purity content too high. Adjusting face proportions. Body rejecting itself. 

Maniac smile, deep breath. Step up! My brain connected all possible vibrations. Fire outside the clone zone. Tasty! Shadow play. Little girls in white dresses and baskets filled with diluted glitter juice. Rocking in my chair. Breathing slows down. Feeling like million little particles planning a breakout from veins. Pores screaming. Smile. A balanced monstrosity. Hover over tangled carpet. I am free. Seeing glares of faces. Poisonous Ether. The journey of self is a fascinating fuck up within the digitalised memory board. I require to see the engender on duty, as longs as its not the night guard. Gives too much hope, will lose focus. You need so little to be happy yet so distant is the shapeless glory. . . and then, reality knocks me in each temple.

Open my eyeS,

AdjusT

Table chair headphones hair face armS.

It’s not real. All not reaL

J u s t L e t g O

….

± p0st pr0ducti0n ± 

Playing a role in my own movie. Alive. Milk in the tub reaching edge. Noise from under cement blocks and eggshell tiles. Too many coincidences makes you question authenticity of events. Rubbing freshly soaked flesh. 2 lights in the distance within reach. 02:22 how long you been here..? Scared to get out? White walls. Not insane. Got my father’s heart. Water drops are perfection of same coincidence that makes me question your intentions. Reading between the lines. My intentions have no malice. Hearing conversations on a loop. Never know. Voice merges with inner projection of time and location.

Learning language and confusing self with mathematical pathways. Every aspect of self is co-dependent on self-realisations of today tangled in yesterday anxiety. Should have gotten that certificate. How can I help. Self on line to the blank line. Going offline. Your unique tone is what vibrates inside me. See you on the other side. Covered in haze of stardust and momentum I dislocated DNA. Watching distance. Somehow too far is the voice that talks inside of me. Not lost yet hidden. Have you counted your heartbeat? Swallowing smoke. Making circles out of chalk and charcoal. Know symbolism. Every shadow. I met the other that lives underneath the skin. Its an open invitation. 

Good night and god bless, 

Queen of Distorder 

Sonia Dietrich 

S T O N E P O W D E R E D K N U C K L E S

 

I had a stone. Inside. Deeper then I should have.

Covered in tongues. Untouched powdered knuckles. 

You became hallow. Emptied something. Strongly insisted,

inwards motions. 

Then came the storm. 

They changed my intake dosage towards the downfall of chemical pirate.

I substitute. 

Look into windows and speak in tongues. Borrowed. My pain. 

Sustainable electric culture. 

Your frown painted in lipstick marks. Perhaps wished, was not mine. 

Melodramatic interlude. Paranoid exaggeration in syllables. 

I wish? I had a dream. One. Sustained. Focused. 

in me 3 to 5 = 1

my heart. 

loosing count of doors knocked and pages started. 

Many faces never one voice. I don’t feel like I do but then you don’t.

In me, there is a stone. Deeper then should have….

Serpentine and concessions. Looking glass and pupils dilated in the beginnings,

turns. Water fountains and fairytales changed

raw chunks of perforated veins. 

Hands behind my head, hand behind my head! Burning eyelids

...breath. 

Calculated minutes. Barriers and voids canceling each-other.

You can try on the nothing,

have a stone. Deeper then I had to.

In psychotic swirls of echo, screaming joints and broken tangents

licking censorship;

not too much, not too much. Exploding vocal cords,

compression, suction. Stitch!

Daylight brings the best in people, suffocating in polished petty. 

Who one is. 5 option with expiration dated.

Made all up, top that. Now that you know,

I had a stone. Inside. Deeper then I should have.

 

Good Night and God Bless,

Queen of Disorder,

Sonia Dietrich
www.soniadietrich.com

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