����������������������������������������� elegy
he reminded me of a fantasy of death i had, and i loved him for his pain. The rest was wasted on a chance at happiness that we smothered quickly before it changed the ugly face of our soul distortions. beautiful he was in tears, ugly when he laughed. colors of interest faded in the rain from my vision. casual was never the case. simple never the solution. always intense-ions that carried with them a choice at compromising conformity with fragmented rebellion. seemingly we lost our libido early in the game, because all our chips are on the table and disappearing quickly. change the words to fit the tune you thief of perceptions as you stunt your height with the conditional restraints on your impending doom of success. fashion a figure out of construction that looks like how you feel inside. it's the only way to see that you're not imagining that you're really alive to others that see you. is that really your shape or is it dillusion?
������������������������������������������������� -Angela Becerra
