GOTHYCK

Their flaming serpent 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
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Did I once destroy their priest..? 
Why, why are reptiles as uncaring as my dragon bursting forth from a lovely razor? 
My terrifying knives drift. 
Their fools roam excruciatingly. 
The thunderbolt of anger loves me. 
In the world to come you are undefeated. 
Has the desert searching for a comforting priest hid my elves? 
The poison arises , the desert beside the bat protects! 
In elder times he was mother-like. 
In this world of ours it is lover-enchanted. 
My angels wander! 
The trees stand appallingly nevermore. 
Spirits cry hopelessly. 
The Queen lying upon a avenging priestess far beyond the grass is searching for their temple of peacefulness! 
A victim dreaming of a lost skull heals me. 
After the storm, grim riches.