The first and the last of all days last
longest of all. A piece of peace's picturesque painted worth, in a
sip, “id” - the egoists egotistic listening - fights and fights
and metaphors met a force of fetid moors and listened to the fated
whore's lips prattling with rattling floors and all this is not the
end of the last's lasting. Fast fasting with water forever. Eat more
nouns and frowning. I am inevitability, I am obligation, I am yours,
pouring and poring over the last and littlest of all things, ring the
door's bell's insides out, wet from within and startling.
Disheartening. The rose's bed, the last last day.
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