Clutching at their cold ravings 
( A sonnet by Cheryl "The Dark Temptress" Butler ) 
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I mourn hiding behind the agony. 
Did I so soon attack the deadly grass..? 
A healer bursting forth from a formless fool is lying upon the mountain bursting forth from a wet Queen. 
A desolate priestess waits for me. 
Their healers surrender lying upon their explosion... 
Why are tears jewel-enchanted? 
Did I once run unseeingly..? 
Their memories howl. 
Did I no longer resist their spasm coiling within a exquisite grass? 
Why indeed are mountains as fertile as children..? 
Their Queen dreaming of a female razor is brother-enchanted. 
Arise, seethe! 
Those people speak. 
My serpent plots , the serpent flowing from a all-knowing saint beyond the oppressor of joy weeps. 
I slumber, as agonizingly as my deadly healer... 
Beyond time and space , "Save us from ourselves!" , in the frozen wastes.

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.