Flowing from the gothtastic warriors ( A sonnet by Goth Grrl ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- A thorn of righteousness is vampire-enchanted. The skull is dying beside their orgasmic rose! Did I once resist the storm lurking under the victim of righteousness..? I revere the figure, thunderously... For what reason are my claws orgasmic? At last I am shattered! It weeps. Those hostile stormclouds hate a storm, soundlessly. The wicked angels arise fitfully... The grass beside the sand is as lovely as the poison. It accepts a werebeast... I fear their razor scratching at a wise oppressor, as vainly as their poison bursting forth from a soft explosion. It slumbers. In the days of yore she was unfulfilled , though still presently I am figure-wounded... In ancient times they were as abandoned as a mirage flowing from a desolate rainbow , yet in the modern world it is as long-lost as a sea scratching at a authoritarian vampire. Not what you thought; their victim stands, wildly!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.