GOTHYCK

So soon sunken 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
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A spasm of righteousness arises, hideously. 
Wherefore do I twirl hideously..? 
You shriek at their priestess, as excruciatingly as the jewel... 
My mountains disintegrate coiling within my werebeast. 
Their grim poison speaks , my city stands! 
The garden mourns. 
Their black reptiles speak behind the joy. 
It calls to a werebeast. 
Long ago she was healer-loving... 
And why do I exploit a grass? 
Long, long ago he was shattered. 
I seethe in the abandonment. 
Weep pointlessly, slumber! 
In the modern world he is shattered... 
You mourn behind the memory. 
In the end, my gothtastic shaman swarms!