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amalgama
Everyone knows my real name isn't Lou or Dido Starsaw. Neither did I get to see stars or golden rings along the way; just an old guy that lives across the hallway - never takes a shower and is always wearing white gloves; shoots a target like the son of Clint Eastwood and hardly ever cooks a meal. 

Some may say he's been around here for twenty years already. Others claim he's part of my imagination; a construct of my supposed split-persona. They may affirm that I'm gay and he's my lover; as if that were part of the script. Not exactly what I need right now, besides some inspiration and making my way back into hell, heaven... or somewhere in between, where I belong - far far away from such ridiculous charade. 


Should I blame it all on a fault in our constellations?

Who knows if it was all indeed meant to happen. Perhaps, the Divine Goddess of Love would know the right analogy to define it. Only been hoping her mildest intentions were in fact sincere.

-Amalgama aka. Allan P. M. Málaga

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Schweinderl