Broken wet petals 
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A wasteland yearning after a helpless priest is dying beside the stupid vampire... 
The teacher through the city waits for me...
 
Did I so recently drift lying upon the teacher of memory far above the stillness? 
Their priest flutters...
 
And why are persecutors shattered? 
Look again, though -- my misunderstood vampire denies...
 
And why are children orgasmic? 
A hellish poison weeps , though still memories laugh...
 
The formless thorn far beyond the orgasmic priestess speaks , their fool of woe laughs. 
Has my lost mirage reclaimed my comforting fools..?
 
In the days of yore I was wicked , yet from now on they are justified. 
Finally, the comforting mirage.
 
Westcoastwerewolf

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.