+ V o r t e X ||| MazE ||| W h o A m I +

Cream leaves the orifice. Time stops. Keep your balance. Peel layers of face. Searching for answers in delirium state. Anesthetic. Hypersensitive allegations. Crawling on the floor in beat related acceleration. Lift-off. No need to think. Push back. Push in. Trying. Be better. At it. It is the I T that has all the answers. Organize. Stop talking to self. We have a vast selection. What are you into? Put a pillow under the knees. Consider options. 3.14 variations of possible outcomes. Evaluate your life girrrl.

Observe the outCUM. Do not hate men. Some make too many presumptions. Do not believe in the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe its time to leave the city one loves so much. Bad ideas with good tendencies. Considering plans that involve selling off antique furniture. Too many crosses and Mary statues. Hair in doctors bags. A perfect candidate for professional burials. Should have picked another carrier. All make mistakes. 150 per hour is a good proposition. Withhold information. Breaking points. Pints. Bottles. Grams. Kilos. Penetrative. Excessive. Anne Sexton would be proud. Lost touch with 93%. You are too idealistic. What are you on? I see pages turn. Blow smoke in circles. How often do they test hair follicles? Loosing artistic potential. What a joke. Carrier changes. Pick your poison. Whats next? You reaching crisis mode. Err0r reports. Should consult a therapist. 11 month waiting lines. Long nails painted in poisonous red. Arsenic! You carry too many pills on you. Hazed in the body language. This will work for you with proper lubrication. Gag reflex training. Should have stuck with 1st chooses. Emergency backups and hidden stash. High out of yesterday into a week from now. I know where it is hidden.
 

On the floor in the corridor with glass of gin next to me. Interesting fact: if you look at the
ceiling and measure distance from wall to wall it feels like a coffin. Or a white and illuminated grave. I keep looking at the ceiling. Catching light from the outside. This is a perfect picture of an ironic burial. All in white light between white walls on wooden floor dressed in black. Always in black. Irony. White grave has a mounted on telephone. Let’s think about that for a second. Always just a phone call away. Hush now. Pelvic bones are coming back, so does the rib cage. Something in this world is right. The epitome of self involvement ladies and gentleman.

In the darkness that swallows each tangent in the body. Air leaves the pipelines - I sing from inside out. One more step, push further. In pain the pleasure of being. Connected to body. Me I am not. Don’t know names and proportion of frames ones puts one in. You have no idea. Who stands in front of you. Presumptions. Push pause. Keep moving. Never stop. More. Never enough. Connect to body through strikes and lashes. Not one to have and posses. Chaos. Trouble. Do not fall in line. Keep moving. Time and faces are just ideas of today’s twisted in yesterday timeline. Charge by the minute. Take bitcoin - insert your address and we will get back to you. Encryption keys and psychotic tendencies. Do not research names. Will not bring you joy. Keep smiling. Empty eyed while yelling “Hail Satan". No games, come clean. 

They want to wash the sinner. What a joke. You need help. Alarm clocks and distortion. Visions. Words of gratitude. Rounded corners. Is it really necessary? Do not hide what lives inside, seen it all. All ends in flower patterns. Compose self. Envision light. Nausea. Do not wish to know. Forever is an impossibility. Encoded errors. Time loops. Bad memory. Upgrade. I see nothing. Charts and recognition thought patterns. Making bad decisions. Push. One more word. Do not stop. I need to feel life coming back into the body. Sacred. The fruit one feeds self. Know too well. Hallways built out of concrete, coffins filled with vibrations of the past. You are a hologram in my system. Growing into walls. No matter how many times one changed shell. Will keep running. There are no enemies here, as here is just an idea. That one scrapes with a layer of skin. While. 

Vanishing into another version. A 2.0. 

Connecting local host

Please Stand by. . .  

Relax. 
 

 
 
Oh thank you for advice, never thought about that. Is it in same category as “be well” and “have you tried meditation”? Flames in eyelids. All good. I know how this works. Vortex. Dance the dance. Drums. Broken sheets and tables and pdfs. Words spilling from inside of the binary. Decide your mind flow. It will work. Pause. Full Speed ahead. No need to compromise. Pass the adrenaline. Claw eyes out of sockets. Have we met? See cosmos breaking into particles of self. Have you tried our secure contact number? All encrypted.

As world fades under the wreckage of emotional turmoil and sounds of the tube tracks, a realization comes. I am a vessel for the for all things my desires conquer. Body melts into bed frames and mattresses. Forget my own name and your shadow. Do not show the crisis. It’s all playfully wishfully fathomable. Talking to yellow wallpaper. Many identities, embed your url. Upper case and lower case letters. It will all make sense in the morning. Hyperbolic. Self-destructive. As one floats in sea off hallucinogenic ideas and dreams while empty minded yet filled with anxiety and dread. Envisioning the outcomes of every possible mathematical combination. In full make-up yet still as if attached to bed-frames and cotton threat count. No idea of what today stands for. Nothing makes mind come at peace with body and body is a tormented idea of cells and tangents. Wrapping body in tight knots and distorted veins. Burning gold in reflections. Make me feel. Something. Pressure. Prayer. Tare skin of layer by layer. Inner rage. Haven’t met this version yet. No escape. 

Leaving lipstick stains over every fingerprint. Inside. 

MoVe. DetaCh. EscPe. 

Visual representation of breaking walls. Blood on the knuckles. You have anger issues. Have you tried meditation? Clean eating? Have you tried support groups? Networking? Fires? Turn off the computer get out more. Such a pretty face. When i was your age. Order of the eye glitch. See things. This is not real. I envy machines. Reboot seems like a perfect idea. Zip and never unRar. Compress, bin. Check self. Nickserv identify. who am i. 

Smile, do not breathe. Hold on. Synchronize your breathing. It Is going to be ok. Push the limit line. Leather over rubber. Thrill seeking is the base line of human nature. Directory. Non engagement of ideas of today to tomorrow. How does the button pushing works in the world of digitalised human interface? Push self. Do not breathe. Tour plans and unopened emails. Erasing self from personal calendar history. You should perform more often. Have you tried yoga and meditation? 
 

Occupy your mind, occupy your time, occupy your body. Have consistent routine, practise safe day to day activities. Have you tried yoga and meditation. Poetics and track names with keys attached. If any fucker says try and relax, yoga and meditation i will put a sharpened toothpick under each nail they have while watching them piss blood. How about that for idea?

You have anger management issues. Have you….. tried…… 
YOGA…. A n D ___ MEDITATION?

/////\\\\\\

We Care. 

Have.

 you .

tried .

yoga.

and .

meditation. 

?

Good Night and god Bless, 
Queen of Disorder 
Sonia Dietrich

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 

Between 8 Rows of Hate or Algorithm of Existence

Sitting away from tables where one keeps fists bottled up in tainted glass bottles with strange markings. Your desire is to wear me like an oversized coat that fits too tightly. With a wet mouth you spew out words that penetrate hair follicles to blood. Sadistic games. No winners. Rotting flesh medals. Wish to carry my fist on a string underneath your neck.

See faces piled up on shelf of past reckonings. I remember each birth mark and each hair. Twist of a back, a break of bone, taste of cum. Wearing many faces at once. Spread of the lip, watching. I am always watching. Take no blame. Never hid behind a mask of someone elses promises. I have all my sins lined up, labelled and named. What you seek they ask one. To meet them all. Reflections and projections, squirt and cum. All of them. Pile them up in the basket and put some lotion on top. Never one, never one. I am a stitched in the middle firecracker. Pulled together by string, muscle, venom and bone. Corked in the arsenic vile. Do you touch the ground? 

Walking on the grass made of ash and acid. Not here. Pleading the 5th. Always pleading the 5th. I am an immortal consequence of your projection. 

Two fuckable syllables in the quote line. Making sense of nonsense is an art form. Crush the knuckles backwards into finger phalanges. I can go 360. Emergency rooms and paper slips. Receipt and 20 pound transfers. Not a convertible placed on shit stained amazon list. A perfect enemy. Fingers on the neck. Scar tissue. I heal well. Pushing every pressure point at once. I pay for everything in one go. Sue me. Let’s dance. Shattering floors, flaking wall paint. Dig deeper. Variate of hammer shapes never let me down.  

Best line of work in this business is money up front. Chairs later. By chairs I mean arts and crafts for skin colouring set. White to Red. Accept bitcoin transfers. Push me, I want to taste the floor that you hover over. Majestic. Non penetrable deity. In the world I lock self in there are no faces. I don't calculate gold possessions. Just make it count. Intentions. Body types. Stereotypes. Vibrations. I calculate the steps. Mess. Me and my SS/S. Secret Sacrifice of Sin converted to 101 on Recovery Mode. 

*  *  *

Staring at the blank page that as a sign of betrayal has a pulsating dash. Penetrating hope. Dose self up in idea of loss that did not happen as one stares at self reflection in distorted screen. Talking back and keeping hair parted in the wrong side of reason. Touch is not the touch needed but provided by a randomised option of rotation process.

Looking back at words typed that do not make sense. Non of it does. I wander when does time starts to make skin crawl into little swirls. All I can think of is pressing delete, but you cant delete the algorithm of existence. As long as the plug lasts.

Walls vibrating. Words half empty. What is the notion of ultimate separation. In ghost towns of smoke and dread. Dreams unfinished with expiry dates activated. Empting bank accounts and hoping for eternity in deLIGHT. Stacks of books. Wanting. See the lie inside out. Woven in paranoia. All see what they choose. Master of disguise, never opening the door. No one knows.

What happened when you see a movie. People change roles in front of you. Weapons and speeches. Nothing new to show. I love you. The one who does not exist. They say my soul is rendered with dreams, insanity and impossibility. 

Not afraid. Not afraid. Not afraid.

Keep your spine in place. Reconstruction surgery. Mind blowing. Pay-cheques. I care about your future. Your insides, spinal fluid leaks. Keep it casual. Sex. 3 letters of distraction and empowerment. Keep it simple. Keep easy. Keep it raw. Pacifism, sadly.

Knowing who one is has something to do with dissolving fingerprints. A tool. Mind should be a exchangeable location. Started by deleting files at random. Existential cooking for the gifted. 

Good night and god Bless, 

Queen of Disorder

Sonia Dietrich