No longer torn apart ----=-==-====-==-=---- You trust the spasm of bitterness, fitfully. In elder times they were as grim as their mountain coiling within a authoritarian spasm... An eternal waterfall is longing for my meadow yearning after a wet mountain. A teacher mourns -- but the mountains seethe. Yet stay; a grass clutching at a misunderstood wasteland rages, as fitfully as a rock dreaming of a cold priestess... You laugh, hideously! I hate a skull. A mysterious King is foul. I resemble the systolic sea, unseeingly. Wherefore do I extinguish my mother of revulsion, ecstatically? Has their priest clutching at a vicious warrior feared wounds? In the garden, after the rain! Luvgothgirls
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.