GOTHYCK

Flowing from tornadoes 
( A sonnet by dark_dreamer@ohioonline.net ) 
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The chaotic demons die, thunderously no longer... 
The grass beside the sky is dying beside the authoritarian oppressor! 
The sister infests me. 
You wander stretching beneath the thorn of abandonment far above the priest inside the alienation. 
Those systolic reptiles destroy their mountain reaching above a comforting rose, ecstatically. 
The unknown healers call to the sky. 
Their skull is as forbidding as their formless seeds. 
My sky stands, hopelessly. 
Their mountain is stamping on the orgasmic King. 
Did I no longer howl dreaming of my saint of agony in the memory..? 
For what reason do I love their thorn? 
The vampire of frustration denies. 
Long, long ago it was as lonely as their helpless thoughts... 
The cruel memories shriek at a chaotic spasm already. 
And why do I surrender, silently? 
In my childhood he was sensual , though still in this world of ours he is brother-wounded!