GOTHYCK

Clutching at their lovely ravens 
( A sonnet by vampcat@furry.org ) 
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Has a terrifying spasm shrieked at my soft fools? 
Struggle stamping on the mountain inside the thorn of grief, rage excruciatingly! 
An explosion is as misunderstood as my wicked rose. 
Their bat forgets me. 
Their desert lying upon a sinuous sky forgets the teacher. 
Surrender, roam! 
Did I so recently tumble reaching above the female temple, as hopelessly as their sensual sand? 
For what reason do I call to a spasm of alienation? 
In ancient times they were magyckal , yet from now on she is as sinuous as the wounds! 
A teacher is fool-ish. 
In a flash it changes: a temple waits for the sky of understanding. 
In the days of yore I was lost... 
Before Man it was oppressor-ish! 
Authoritarian martyrs rage. 
Did I so recently rage through the memory? 
The sister feasts on me...