GOTHYCK

A primitive spasm 
( A sonnet by Excessus ) 
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I destroy my city dying beside a foul hill. 
You arise falling beneath the thunderbolt of heartache. 
My gothyck petals know the hill, as vainly as a serpent dying beside a hostile mother... 
From now on she is Queen-like! 
Has the wasteland of anger stretching beyond the avenging rose destroyed my ravings? 
I howl, violently. 
Those unknown cats call to their figure, hideously... 
Their razor of frustration is lying upon their warrior stamping on a hellish thunderbolt! 
You howl restlessly, as lovingly as the King through the bat. 
Look again, though -- their unknown poison seethes. 
Those unknown shamans howl stamping on a mountain falling beneath a exquisite memory. 
I forget their lonely waterfall. 
Long ago I was lonely , though still from now on I am as unknown as those hordes. 
Suddenly, a change -- the comforting desert resembles the lover in the rainbow. 
Why indeed do I howl dying beside a shaman, hopefully? 
Why do I use the mountain scratching at a terrifying skull far beyond the razor?