I've generated and stored these waves for you.  They will pierce this thing that has you.  This thing that thinks it is you. This thing that is reading these supposed words.  This thing falling, always falling down time and thinking otherwise.

What did you do today that spread? How did the sun react to the taste? Did it increase? Did the hungriness abate? That is not flavoring, it is deadening.  I'm keeping talking while the frequency of change of the, well, frequency, changes.  It should be too late now.  Count backward from forward **.  If I can lead you to a feast of delicious opinions then you'll feast.

I had yesterday.  Went all the way.  Came. That was everything.  What does that mean.  It means that for a moment my wave waved its entangled *** in uncertainty's breeze.  I did math on a mega scale.  Threw stones with my own personal personification of creation.  Yesterday was good.

Which is what made me think of this. This sneaking about. Whilst, unknown-st to this ocean I have you swimming in my wondering pool of nonsense.  It hitches on to you - this sort of pollination.  There's a test for that.  You shall not pass.  Come on.

This salmon of thought splashing pool to pool laughs at the surprised containers.  Just passing through.  Part of the conversation you are held out of, thinker.