y la memoria se queda mal puesta en mi piel. fingers trace over and over again , an endless mindless misery. as noting but the echos of memories dance like twelve princesses in the darkness behind tired eyes. every beat lash was a dangerous reminder , that not only was he too ( rash ) to complete any sort of task in an efficient manner. but the endless turmoil and misplacement that wrecked each individual brain cell was ( at the end of the day ) --- a tragedy. eduardo had lost himself at death , the fight of justice had left a body empty and depraved. gone & yet still here , a translucent version of what had once existed. visible to the naked eye , but wrong in so many ways. as if he were in fact , not quite human. which felt correct , as humans were never quite alone --- but the young mexican was somehow , always alone. fingers beating against the inside of his palms trace the same pattern , entierame en mi tiera.
eyes glaze over once again , lost in and endless slate of grey in his mind , that is until a voice as warm as the scorching desert sun fills his body with a warmth long gone. eyes dance over , tired eyes ; « me canso , can you please --- tell me where we're goin' ? te voy a matar , fuckin' gringo. »