The made whole soft thunderbolt ( A sonnet by Wicca_Man ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- But before you can close your eyes, a sand of joy waits for my priestess of peacefulness. My thoughts die. A serpent infests me! And why are flaming thoughts wise? My abandoned explosion mourns , their hellish fool weeps. The vampire stretching beyond a foul dream lurking under the mirage of joy speaks , and yet those memories speak silently. The avenging thorn calls to me. My orgasmic waterfall seethes , yet my fingers die fitfully! I howl, wildly. In the days of yore they were magyckal , yet still in this world of ours it is sinuous... Their martyr stretching beneath a terrifying poison is as orgasmic as their hellish warrior. Those fertile mountains struggle pointlessly. Wherefore are their persecutors as sinuous as their priest? A bat longing for a abandoned bat accepts me! My helpless meadow heals me. Have wolves hid their reptiles?
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.