I Paint My Own Reality.

I Must Fight With All My Strength So That The Little Positive Things That My Health Allows Me To Do Might Be Pointed Toward Helping The Revolution. The Only Real Reason For Living.

I Love You More Than My Own Skin And Even Though You Don’t Love Me The Same Way, You Love Me Anyways, Don’t You? And If You Don’t, I’ll Always Have The Hope That You Do, And I’m Satisfied With That. Love Me A Little. I Adore You.

... There Is A Skeleton (or Death) That Flees Terrified In The Face Of My Will To Live.

I Don’t Like The Gringos At All. They Are Very Boring And All Have Faces Like Unbaked Rolls.

Your Word Travels The Entirety Of Space And Reaches My Cells Which Are My Stars Then Goes To Yours Which Are My Light.