Queen Of Bad Influence

 

My carpet says - happy hour. I think it's a sarcastic remark towards Viktor Pelevin, how grim can we get. All is so posh and polished the anticipation towards the real world keeps all talking in resonance. Cover legs - there is a whore policy. Depending on the moment of voice and buyer/payers rights. All is great! We smile. Shaped in jigsaw puzzle. There is no shame in that, just don't mix pepper with salt. Putting toothpicks under nails and coffin lids. Just to have a peek. Whether the other one is still breathing.

 

Wine and cigarette buts. More possibilities for the fragile and wasted. Oh the game the game the game. Remembering hunt the hunter, kill the killing and consume the unwanted. The taste of tomorrow. We gain the grade like kids in high school who learn where the toilets are. And how to pick chewing gum from the wall so the peepholes would be exposed and exposing. The gentle view. The crucial state. The elimination. We all know how it's done. Twist the bottle, chew the cork.

The mathematical proportion is simple. Talk when you are talked to. Geometrically we are all from the same cloth. Licking the white lines - we are all gods! Unbecoming creatures covers is sweat. Bright and big eyed. Going towards the sparkling pearly gates of Disneyland. Kids and Kings. Speaking hunger and licking thirst. Believing into something that appears from time spent combining cells into organs.

The factors and visions. Safe space under camouflage serpentine. Rather then. Just in case. It's an emergency. Too far off. Wondering in songs and motions. Too communicatively forward brings idealistic tendencies. The slightly twitchy ladies and their pills. Dosed to oblivion. In the leopard coats with no eye movement. I am the Queen Of Bad Influence! Hopeful. Metamorphic resurrections and theme songs. Remastered tendencies. Air is burning, woods have many voices. Perhaps there is a danger tag on the coat I am wearing. But all is good. It shines and sparkles. 

Wooden boxes. Never knew the language.

I Solute You 

Good Night and God Bless,

Queen Of Disorder

Sonia Dietrich 

Distorted Parts

 

With each bite I closed my eyes, seeing table cloths. Wire. White. Laced. Cream decorated edges. My teeth sink into flesh. Fig. It's bloody. Want to wear my fathers coat and get lost in smell of leather. Fumes. You tell me things. I hear lakes. Soft grass under my toes and fingers. Face down. Can't hear you. Any. Longer.

Seeing things, watching air. Hearing echo of self in glass. Time to go. Explore the emptiness. The eminence deafening, deep thorough. Touching fire with fingertips and hair swirls. Looking into eyes in slow motion while you recite the dialogue. In motion. I am touched! Letters, planed messages. Never sent.

Feel spring. My mouth is swollen. Skin dry. Need to get out. Walk. Mindlessly scraping pavement. With memories. Paranoid redirected resurrections. Woman with kind stake stare told my hands look cold. The gentleness of face towel. Sink. Hands. Sink. Floor. Sink. Towel. Reapply the lipstick Lepidolite. Red wine, full ashtray.

Touch self. As if nothing is never.

Seeing people in their old age, washed with arsenic and barely breathing. Pretending to be capable of natural, non autistic, face to face human contact. The longer one stays in a cave, the more make up I wear. The more awkward this gets. Can only talk about politics and noise. What is the norm in day to day chit chat. Contact!

Catch self talking about the weather or prescription medication. Take. Stay normal, neutral, natural. Laugh when need and go with the crowds reaction, so no one would know. How it burns!!!!!

The social norm, what the fuck are you?! Legs are covers in shiny black stuff, blood boiling. Smile through teeth. I wave, Jackie O inside has a burned off flaming black lipstick smile. Face melting -Fist rising - I am here for you, like democracy and strap-ons!

 

Give you what ever there is left of the the days. Period does not succeed and all your arteries are clogged with shit and violent expressions of purity. Never taken hens never gone but still never possessed. 

Good night and god bless,

Queen Of Disorder,

Sonia Dietrich 

White Storm

Fitting time frames. This is what all this shit is about. Fitting some fuckers time frame. The undeniably misogynistic, racist fucks and their non erect time frames. Need to put a tape round self – do not cross. Over. In the process of. OFF. ON? Step on the pedal boy. Lets play who can sleep louder and scream slower. Step over. Move across. Not in self. This process of development is kept in hand. A hand print. Black and White. Infra red. Digestible. Time is passing. Floor is making heels itch to step over and under again. No.

Sound of nervous twitch and white sky.  Hair smells of formaldehyde and someone’s rest in peace .  White tablecloth and glasses of wine. Silverware and festive appetizers.  Frames and faces. To – From. Smile. What a surprise. I always wanted!

 Pass through driveways and packed parking lots. Tried. Tires and black cars. On white roads. Hungry passengers and eyes full of. Light. Fire. Works. Lakes and woods. Scared animals. Barefoot on the snow. Hidden bottles and nausea. Water. Feet. Foot. Stones. Do you see? Grey. Lights. Offers and promises. Suggestions. Inflammations. Irritations. Confessions. Now do you please the collarbones. Touching god. Reaching. Self-explanatory surgery. Still.  

 

Peace in moments. In frozen lands. What a line. Oh what a line. Your interface is breaking….  All the hate and all the glorification. The race for happiness and divine intervention. Damn how good it tastes. How soft the apathy and sweet is the storm.  

Good Night and God Bless,

Queen of Disorder,

Sonia Dietrich 

All images are copyright of Sonia Dietrich