Steel Imp of Purpose

Soon the aspects of inter-cerebral dynamism will reroute the plants. Inwardly a doppelganger, outwardly a flying bicycle yearning for the moon's secret limbic in the dread goblet of panting noumena sorcerers. The birth mark of unheard squeaks in the ambient crystal butterfly, as in, turn the radio down with your foot. The diatomatious circle of wolves, sleep cone society vortex hog. Wrecked pace of humid goats. I am all that, and her lingering breath, too. There's not a spider without a faraday, my heated steel imp of purpose.