Trinity w/CitrusCrystal Curry
When the girl was just a viscous plane, the ghost was only being born. The egg presents to the focus group: racecar for ghost, skin for girl. She pours a foundation to honor concrete. The ghost makes a ceiling for her viscous skin. She's pink & the focus group's read her whole dossier: peccatophobic, desperate to pave. The egg leaves decisions dead, in the dirt. The ghost denounces a dram of limes, who rejected their locules. We must not hatch here. What scared her shoulder down to its wheel? Why are we precious & twining like mayflies? The egg & the girl have improvised pains. The ghost by the lime grove rejected the limes. Racecar meant exhilaration; skin, tear within, meant consult the focus group as soon as you can. Even pecks later & bushels past. Even after the hailstorm stops. The racecar in the ghost is the viscous girl. She's pining for asphalt. The egg is supercool. Light from the lime grove bathes the green sinner. Light from the sinner makes the lime grove, just so.
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