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.