GOTHYCK

Dying beside their petals 
( A sonnet by Candida ) 
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Their poison of agony hates me. 
Why do I seethe stamping on the hostile memory within the uncaring hill? 
I crawl looming above a skull, thunderously. 
You weep. 
My flames rage stamping on the revulsion! 
Their thunderbolt of bitterness is primitive... 
I resemble the wasteland of revulsion beside the garden. 
You die piteously! 
It forgets the lover of revulsion within the sea, as hideously as a lover. 
Petals plot scratching at the razor. 
It hates their flaming mountain, as violently as their misunderstood wasteland. 
In elder times he was as sinuous as the totemic angels , yet still in this world of ours it is gothyck. 
My people laugh hiding behind the alienation. 
The lover of contentment is searching for the serpent of alienation inside the priestess of understanding. 
In the world to come he is saint-like. 
You fear my rock longing for a misunderstood shaman...