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Let me tell you about it all, all.
Let me sum up again with an awkward, imprecise cascade.
… Truth is a mighty volume of epigrams and paradoxes.
… Real truth is caught in single word.
… And the ultimate truth bleeds even now in a-
Wreathed mess of skinless time. Time!
The last living poet just crossed the fence and told all
about her serene.
So, how I can no longer try to sound like an eclectic.
Little son of bitch.
Now, I’m gonna haft a wait for the next living poet.
The last living magician sold all his tricks and then be disappeared.
So, now I can’t even try to fool my friends all their so-called-
So, now the illusions are less than fodder for fools- and even-
So-called Wiseman- and maybe poets too.
The last political is about to!! …