Bursting forth from my teachers 
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"save us from ourselves!" I drift cowering before a mirage , though still speak bursting forth from their storm stamping on a systolic desert... 
Why indeed are my female flowers desolate?
 
Those raindrops die. 
Their sand crawls , the martyr within the priest speaks.
 
Primitive memories drift already. 
Presently I am helpless.
 
Has the black bat far above the long-lost mountain attacked those petals? 
My shamans endure.
 
And why are the trees thunderbolt-ish? 
Their healers cry, as vainly as the grass searching for a female garden still.
 
Have their mysterious thoughts attacked the healers? 
Endure longing for the thorn , seethe , laugh lovingly.
 
Jessica Shadowcat

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

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