GOTHYCK

Already unforgiven 
( A sonnet by WestCoastWerewolf ) 
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A wet rose shrieks at me. 
Their knives cry dreaming of my explosion. 
Their lonely flowers rage smilingly. 
Suddenly, a change -- my memory dances with the totemic grass, vainly. 
Their mountain uses me... 
My cruel hordes slumber within the bitterness nevermore. 
Have their eyes defied their indestructible wolves? 
A mother waits for me. 
Have those magyckal ravens discovered the fools? 
The mountain scratching at a abandoned saint is longing for the dream through the fertile oppressor. 
My flaming mountain attacks the saint of contentment, piteously! 
Through it all my figure of heartache flutters, agonizingly. 
From now on it is as hostile as my cats! 
Have those orgasmic tornadoes hated my seeds? 
Their sinuous rainbow heals me... 
In the garden, after the rain...