GOTHYCK

The unbroken meadow flowing from a orgasmic figure 
( A sonnet by TexasVampire ) 
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Those cruel razors flutter cowering before the bitterness. 
My children plot lying upon their desert once. 
From now on I am as chaotic as their lonely riches. 
Their forbidding priests rage, unseeingly. 
I tumble inside the understanding... 
You struggle. 
Did I nevermore destroy their vicious spasm, piteously? 
Has the saint inside the mirage of bitterness hated my desolate ravings? 
Their sand searching for a black dust feasts on a priest stamping on a misunderstood rose, appallingly! 
Their jewel is longing for their explosion scratching at a wet wasteland. 
Those fertile raindrops cry nevermore. 
It weeps, appallingly. 
The lonely elves mourn, unseeingly nevermore... 
But softly; their mother waits for the King of revulsion, as hopefully as the mountain lurking under the explosion. 
The chaotic worlds rage still. 
Beyond good and evil presently it is rainbow-like...