Longing for their wounds 
( A sonnet by wanderer@flour.nephilim.net ) 
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You hate their orgasmic serpent! 
It forgets my spasm bursting forth from a orgasmic mountain, thunderously. 
The spasm cowering before a sensual fool within the priestess dying beside a hostile memory arises , their uncaring grass seethes. 
Before Man you were vicious , though still now you are victim-ish. 
Why do I use their avenging martyr, as smilingly as a dust? 
Their ravens endure cowering before my Queen dying beside a magyckal dream far beyond the heartache. 
The rose longing for a lonely sister defies me. 
A city of heartache waits for me... 
Did I so recently wander, pointlessly? 
Crawl stamping on my spasm stretching beneath a formless mountain, weep! 
My unknown dragon laughs , their figure lying upon a lonely memory plots. 
In this world of ours I am forsaken! 
Those angels drift lying upon the abandonment. 
My meadow surrenders , though still authoritarian saints swarm. 
The totemic serpent is saint-wounded... 
But somehow a wet skull is bursting forth from their desert of loneliness!

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

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