Pimples on the tongue

 An instant and I do not know what I have spoken. I haven't called you. My words still tremble. They were brief. Lonely and brief, like almost nothing, almost nobody. His phrases sound familiar to me, what his words say. One moment: I'm going to see. Let's continue being minimalist, minimalism, in short mini, ridiculously tiny. Next ... They tremble, brief. Short meat of slight brevity. Dry mouth before the dark red meat of the freshly cut soft-skinned shortbread. Pimples on the tongue They refuse to grow like fig trees within the shadow of the mouth. Brave, they take root by taking advantage of the root of the vocal cords. They penetrate, at the vegetal rhythm, throughout the body, the soles of the feet and shoes, the hard crust of the ground, they are planted everywhere.

Sense, then ex-isto as a hypothesis / thesis.