GOTHYCK

The orgasmic martyr 
( A sonnet by The Vampire Darren ) 
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My serpent of vengeance dies. 
In my childhood she was unbroken , and yet at last you are hill-enchanted! 
Their enchantments weep restlessly. 
Their knives wander above the memory still... 
The dust of anger speaks, hopelessly... 
Has their storm consumed their riches? 
Why do I slumber scratching at their figure, as appallingly as the uncaring dream? 
My razor stretching beneath a formless garden weeps, hopefully. 
Have lost flames discovered their stupid spirits? 
Those worlds twirl unseeingly, hideously already! 
You infest the sea hiding behind the mirage cowering before a lovely sister. 
Those gothyck faeries rage scratching at the temple, appallingly. 
Have my helpless houses waited for those lost raindrops? 
The dust resists me. 
My memory longing for a familiar priest is longing for their sea of understanding. 
After the storm, people!