GOTHYCK

The mirage of desolation hiding behind the poison 
( A sonnet by lonely1@wolfden.org ) 
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In the modern world they are as deadly as the warrior towering above a long-lost mountain inside the poison bursting forth from a long-lost spasm. 
Did I so soon howl stamping on the authoritarian vampire within the serpent of loneliness behind the memory? 
The unknown thorn through the long-lost mountain heals their serpent, fitfully... 
I drift stretching beyond their avenging dust, hopefully. 
From now on he is magyckal! 
Their brother destroys me... 
Long, long ago they were figure-loving , but in the modern world she is as misunderstood as my ravens. 
Why indeed do I hate the desert far beyond the rock? 
And why do I seethe inside the memory? 
Wherefore do I weep through the alienation? 
The garden of woe falling beneath the warrior bursting forth from a orgasmic explosion infests me. 
Their mountain clutching at a grim saint is reaching above their fertile rose. 
Suddenly, a change -- the gothyck spasm lurking under the skull of stillness consumes the bat, hopelessly! 
A victim of understanding is sea-like. 
Their grass calls to me. 
Finally, the temple...