It's been a nanosecond since my last death-bed confession, shame on me. As nature hates the space between my ears, the lily of the plate tectonic does not travel astrally but by the very benefit of doubt. Recalibrate your half-life while you may.

The filament was one-tenth the width of the human hair. In lieu of leaves the trees were folding and unfolding crows. You would have the bare minimum of tentacles. The passing fancy having Doppler shifted, it's a rose whose name is may-not-smell-so-sweet.

I now pronounce you thesis and antithesis. The greatest of erasures is preemption. Déjà vu is outmaneuvered by amnesia. All ingredients are secret. Subatomic particles fall in and out of love. Three out of seven synesthetics pay to play.

The linear continuum at least at last aligns. Aphasia is not feigned. I am an object of affection therefore I exist. The quality of condemnation is distorted so who told you, glass, that you were flexible and, grass, that you were green with wheels?