Dragon Fruit Dragon Juice

There is a sublime pool of intersecting streams. I wade that wet like watermelon's green. Citrulline el citrine my cisterns be clean like the water's Maxwell. The soul is luminous and gloomed by the taste of tart nectarines. Ascorbic acid redox action. Black berries and raspberry pi passions. Anthocyanin dismutation. Resveratrol is my midas touch; I turn water into a flight of Pinot noir and charcuterie plush. I see your face and develop a crush. I may improvise on your liquid piano a null note to Chopin. Masquerade with a mask made of fluent time before the sluice is opened. Lift my grail to fill of all with these mulled elixirs; to place in a potion of pairs. Drop just a dram of it's dole on the serpent's forked tongue so that it's venom may be squared. The juice of a dragon fruit dragon. Take just a drop to succus for a homeopathic. Used to incant with living spirits a sanguine pima mater. It sweetens inside it's menstruum; imprinting it's mark in the water by delicate radio wave resonance. All to be nestled in the sublingual space of an atoned tyrant. Vitalized by the fruit's likeliness to my draconian ward. Reconstituted by the essence of what was once the fruit of knowledge before. Ripened, to a pursuit of love inside it's holon core.