the music changes. It feels dream like. it feels helpless. A reduction of environment. A blossoming of hate. an inspiration to destroy. these are the things around me, these are the things rising within me. not erections, not fantastic delusional and possible ideas and actions, not hope, not love, I feel can only be described as feeling of hate for that whcich surrounds me. I have conformed; I have integrated. I have been approved. the mask has been approved. and to that which I hold onto, my actual self, my belief in words and expression, this has never seen more persecution than it does on this day, at this time.