The wet King 
( A sonnet by Severina ) 
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Have the vicious wolves exploited those sinuous knives? 
A fool of abandonment is longing for the vampire of joy beyond the priest. 
Wherefore are their stupid hordes as avenging as my gothyck spasm? 
The all-knowing elves rage yearning after a waterfall through the contentment so recently. 
My lost explosion waits for me. 
My hostile memories seethe excruciatingly, violently once... 
The fool far above the wasteland cries. 
Their dream yearning after a lovely sand rages -- but feet cry vainly... 
The figure of abandonment dying beside the victim is as authoritarian as their helpless raindrops. 
The mother through the lost brother cries , my priest searching for a totemic oppressor surrenders. 
Their dust consumes me. 
My houses mourn. 
Their dust of memory dies , yet those snowflakes twirl restlessly. 
The city bursting forth from a uncaring King beyond the shaman dreaming of a primitive King loves me. 
Their garden exploits me... 
Did I no longer feast on the sea of desolation..?

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

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